


The Things We Do for Love

by PrettyPoppy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Reconciliation, Romance, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-03-14 14:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyPoppy/pseuds/PrettyPoppy
Summary: After surviving the collapse of the Red Keep, Jaime Lannister narrowly escapes King’s Landing with his life.  Months later, he returns to find that Brienne has become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.  When Tyrion appoints Jaime as Master of War, he and Brienne have no choice but to work together, even though Brienne is still heartbroken over Jaime’s betrayal.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is very much a work-in-progress. I only have a vague idea of where it’s going, and I imagine that updates are going to be slow. I intend to stay as close to canon as possible while still salvaging Jaime’s character. Even now, I refuse to believe that Jaime left Winterfell because he was in love with Cersei. After all, he didn’t confess his love or try to kiss her while they stood there waiting to die. 
> 
> For anyone who’s concerned about the fate of “The Bastard of Winterfell,” please don’t worry. I will be working on both projects simultaneously. Although Tyrion and Sansa will probably end up together in this fic, the entire thing will be told from Jaime and Brienne’s POVs, so any Sanrion romance here will be in the background. In fact, with Sansa in the north, I can’t even promise that she’ll make an actual appearance in this story, even if she and Tyrion do get their happily-ever-after.

#### Prologue

Jaime Lannister hovered somewhere between wake and sleep, the sound of distant sobbing clouding his mind like a hazy fog.  His vision was dark, and try as he might, he couldn’t seem to open his eyes.  Every nerve in his body screamed with pain, but he could do nothing to alleviate the agony.  He was certain he was dead, stranded somewhere between two of the Seven Hells, though which two, he couldn’t quite imagine.  An eternity of suffering and pain lay before him, and he knew he had earned every moment of it.

The sobbing grew closer, though it still seemed so distant that Jaime was sure he was imagining it.  The sound was joined by a rhythmic _clack, clack, clack_ , like bricks hitting stone, but it barely registered.  The last thing Jaime remembered was being crushed beneath the walls of the Red Keep, his arms wrapped around his sister as they’d both fallen beneath the rubble.

The sobs got louder, the clacking sound closer.  And then, a great weight was suddenly lifted off Jaime’s chest, and he gasped for breath, filling his lungs as quickly as he could, choking on the very air he was so desperate to breathe.

“Oh, gods!  You’re alive!”

The voice was faint, far away, but Jaime recognized it as he would recognize no other. 

Tyrion.  It was Tyrion. 

 _Had Tyrion died too?_  

The acrid sting of tears pricked the backs of Jaime’s eyes at the thought that his little brother had died right along with him and Cersei.  Tyrion had always been the best of them.  If anyone had deserved to live, it was Tyrion.  Jaime wished there was something he could do to save his little brother, but he knew it was already too late.  There was nothing either of them could do now.

 _Clackety, clackety, clack._   The sound of bricks hitting stone grew faster, more frenzied, more urgent. 

Jaime tried to draw in another breath, and thankfully, this time, he didn’t choke on it.

“Stay calm.”  Tyrion’s voice sounded closer this time.  “I’m going to get you out of there.  Stay with me, Jaime.  Please.”

Jaime had no intention of going anywhere.  He would do anything to see his brother again, anything in the world.

Jaime focused all his strength on trying to open his eyes.  It was a fierce struggle, one he was sure he was going to lose, but eventually, he managed to crack open one eyelid and then the other.

Everything was dark for a moment, and Jaime thought, perhaps, he hadn’t opened his eyes at all.  But slowly, his vision came into focus, and he saw color and light and movement.  There was definitely someone with him.  Someone hovering above him, frantically pulling at the stones that were weighing him down.  There was a beard and a scar and a pair of unforgettably soulful eyes focused on tearing the bricks away.

“Ty . . . Tyrion.”  The word ripped from Jaime’s throat, weak and hoarse.

Tyrion tore his eyes from his work and stared at Jaime’s face.  “Yes, it’s me,” he said in a mad rush, his breath shallow, his eyes wild with alarm.  “I’m going to get you out of here.  You’re going to be all right.”

“Cersei?”  Jaime had to know.  He had to know what had happened to her.

Tyrion just shook his head, and Jaime closed his eyes, a fresh wave of grief washing over him.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” Tyrion swore, his voice hard.  “Cersei almost took you from me once.  I’m not going to let her take you from me again.”

Jaime forced his eyes open and looked up at his younger brother.  Once Tyrion saw that Jaime’s eyes were open, that he hadn’t given up on getting out from beneath the rubble, he finally turned away and started working again.

One by one, he lifted the bricks from Jaime’s body, tossing them aside as if they weighed nothing at all.  All of a sudden, Tyrion had the strength of ten men, quickly plowing through the rubble and finally setting Jaime free.

The instant his work was done, Tyrion repositioned himself atop the pile of bricks and hunkered down close to Jaime so that he could help him sit up.  It was difficult for Jaime to move.  Every muscle in his body burned with pain, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to do more than breathe.

But Tyrion slipped both his hands beneath Jaime’s back and pushed him upright, helping him rise.  Jaime swayed with the movement, closing his eyes against the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.  It wasn’t until Tyrion demanded that he open his eyes again that Jaime even tried.

He forced his eyelids open and found himself sitting among the pile of rubble, Cersei’s lifeless body lying beside him.  For a moment, he couldn’t see anything else around him except his sister’s battered corpse.

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him.  All of it.  Winterfell, the Great War, the Night King. 

Brienne. 

Jaime had come to King’s Landing intent on killing his sister, intent on atoning for his sins, and yet, in their final moments together, he’d been unable to end Cersei’s life.  It wasn’t because he was in love with her, or because he hadn’t overcome his feelings for her, but because she was his sister, and in that way, he still loved her.  As they’d stood there, waiting to be crushed by the crumbling walls of the Red Keep, Jaime had chosen to show her mercy instead of cruelty.  Cersei was the cruel one, but Jaime had risen above such things long ago.  He had done what he’d thought was right in those final moments, performing one last act of mercy as he’d prepared to forfeit his life.

“She’s gone,” Tyrion said as Jaime continued to stare at Cersei’s body, her skin already a deadly shade of blue.  “I’m sorry.”

Jaime shook his head, the movement almost making the world go dark around him.  He closed his eyes before turning his head in Tyrion’s direction.  Only then, did he open them again, afraid that even the slightest movement might make him collapse.  “Don’t be sorry,” Jaime rasped, his throat so dry that it hurt to speak.  “She brought this on herself.  If it wasn’t the Dragon Queen, it would have been me.”

Tyrion’s eyes narrowed on Jaime.  “What do you mean?  I thought you and Cersei were going to escape.  You swore to me you were going to escape.”

“And you swore that you were going to be loyal to your queen.  We all tell lies when we have to, don’t we?”

“You came here to kill her?”

“I had to.  I thought it was the only way, that I was the only one who could get close enough to her to do it.  Tell me, Tyrion, am I really alive?”

Tyrion’s eyes drifted down the length of Jaime’s body, stopping when they reached his injured flank.  Jaime had completely forgotten about being stabbed by Euron Greyjoy.  He’d been certain that the wound was going to kill him, but obviously, it hadn’t been as bad as he’d first thought. 

Tyrion inhaled a sharp breath as he examined Jaime’s side.  “From the look of that wound, I’d say, just barely.”

“But I am alive?”

Tyrion nodded.  “You are.  But I don’t know how long that will be true.”

A flush of cold dread washed down Jaime’s spine, and the blood rushed faster in his veins.  A moment earlier, he’d thought himself dead and had feared nothing, but now that he knew he was alive, he was terrified of dying.  “Is it that bad?”

Tyrion finally looked up at him again.  “What?  The wound?”

“Yes.”

“No, I don’t think so.  The bleeding has stopped, and if it hasn’t killed you already, I doubt it’s going to kill you now.  But you will need a good maester to sew you up before infection sets in.  Though a good maester is going to be pretty hard to come by now.”

“Why?”

“Why?  Because Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons and Breaker of Chains, has burned down all of King’s Landing and nearly every last man, woman, and child within it.”

“What?”  Jaime was certain he’d misheard.

“The bells,” Tyrion said, dragging his eyes away from Jaime’s, seemingly lost in his own disturbing memories.  “The bells, they rang for the city’s surrender.  They rang, and she attacked anyway.  Killed innocents.  Destroyed the city.  Went mad . . . like her father.”

Jaime just stared at Tyrion in silent disbelief.  After everything Jaime had done to protect the people of King’s Landing – killing the mad king, spending a lifetime being called Kingslayer – he couldn’t believe it had come to this.  “How?” 

“I . . . I don’t know.  I thought she was better than that.  I staked my life on it.  And now, I’m going to lose my life, and so will you, if you don’t escape King’s Landing before her men find you.”

Jaime shook his head, and a spike of pain pierced his skull, but he did his best to ignore it, determined to get through to Tyrion before it was too late.  “I’m not leaving without you,” Jaime said, struggling to force some strength into his voice.

Tyrion looked up at his brother again.  “I can’t leave.  I am Daenerys’ Hand, and I betrayed her.  I knew what I was doing when I set you free, and I will live – or die,” he said with a cynical laugh, “with the consequences.”

“She will kill you.”

“And don’t I know it?  But I have to do what’s right.  And you have to get the hell out of here before anyone finds you, before you succumb to your wounds.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

Tyrion was silent for a moment, as if he was struggling to answer.  Finally, he said, “The boat . . . the boat I arranged for you and Cersei should still be there.  The tunnel might be blocked, but we’ll find another way to get you to it.  Take the boat.  Take it to Pentos.  If you don’t think you can get that far, take it up the coast.  Take it anywhere you can without being found.  You need to find a maester before it’s too late.  You need to get well so you can live your life, so there will be at least one Lannister left in the world when this nightmare is over.”

Jaime tried to laugh, but his entire body ached with the effort.  “What does it matter if there are any Lannisters left in this world?  We’re all worthless wretches.  Maybe I should just lay down and die right here.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Tyrion warned, his voice hard.  “I want you to live.  I need you to live.  Do you understand me?  Someone has to make it out of this alive, and you have a chance.  Everyone thinks you’re already dead.  I’m sure of it.  This is your chance.  Get out now, Jaime.  Please,” Tyrion said, the word nearly a sob.

“All right, I’ll go.  But—”

“I can’t come with you.  Don’t even ask.”

“If I recover, where am I to even go?”

“Go back to Winterfell.  Go back to the woman you love, while you still can.”

Jaime just stared at Tyrion, unable to speak.  He didn’t know how to answer.  Finally, he said the only thing he could say, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because she hates me, and rightfully so.”

“I wish I knew Ser Brienne well enough to know whether or not that’s true, but I don’t.  All I can say is, if I was given a second chance to spend the rest of my life with the woman I love, I would take it in a heartbeat.  Fuck duty, fuck honor.  I would run to her as fast as my stunted legs could carry me, and I would never look back.”

Jaime was stunned by Tyrion’s words, not because he was surprised that Tyrion was encouraging him to return to Brienne, but because Tyrion sounded like he himself was very much in love, something Jaime had never expected.  Was it Daenerys Targaryen, he wondered.  Was she the woman who had stolen his brother’s heart?  Was that why Tyrion felt compelled to stay and suffer her wrath?  Because he loved her?

“Who?” Jaime asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Who?  I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.”

“Who is she?  The woman you’re in love with?”

Tyrion pulled his eyes away from his brother and hunkered down closer to Jaime’s side, staring at his open wound.  “You know, maybe if I could get something to clean this with, I could tend to it myself.”

“Who is she, Tyrion?  You’ve never been a coward.  Just tell me.”

Tyrion plopped down onto his backside, finally sitting among the rubble.  He looked up at Jaime in defeat.  “You’ll think I’m an idiot.”

“I already think you’re an idiot.  Who is she?”

Tyrion looked away again, but only for a moment.  When his eyes met Jaime’s once more, he said, “Sansa Stark.”

A broad smile spread across Jaime’s face.  “I should have known.”

“Well, can you blame me, really?  She’s smart, she’s clever, she’s beautiful.”

“She used to be your wife.”

“Yes, there is that.  I wish she was still my wife.  There was a time when I really thought I could make her happy.  And then, that night in the crypts—”

Jaime raised a brow in question.  “What happened that night in the crypts?”

“Oh, nothing untoward,” Tyrion reassured him.  “But when I told her that maybe we should have stayed married, she said it wouldn’t have worked between us because of my divided loyalties.  Not because I’m a dwarf.  Not because I’m a Lannister.  But because I am Daenerys’ Hand.  Well, I won’t be Daenerys’ Hand for much longer.”

“No, you’ll be dead soon.  Tyrion—”

But Tyrion refused to listen to another word.  “That’s enough.  We don’t have time for this.  We need to do one more thing before we get you out of here.”

“And what is that?”

“Take off your hand.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed on his brother.  “What?  Why?”

“Because when Daenerys’ men find it, they’ll think it’s proof that you’re dead, buried somewhere deep among the rubble.  Give it to me now, and we can go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t got the strength to take it off.”

Tyrion didn’t say another word.  He simply reached for Jaime’s golden hand and began working the straps free.  In a few, silent moments, the wretched thing was gone, and Tyrion quickly buried it amongst the rubble, its frozen fingers peeking out just above the surface.

Once he was done, Tyrion pushed himself to his feet, standing atop the mountain of bricks.  “I’m sure that if I don’t show myself soon, the Unsullied will come looking for me, and I don’t want them to find me here with you.  Go, Jaime, while you still can.  Please, go and live.”

“I hate saying goodbye to you, little brother.  It’s always the hardest thing in the world to do.”

“I know.  We’ve each cheated death once now, but I think this goodbye will be the last.  I love you, Jaime.  Whatever happens, try to have a happy life.  Find love, forgive yourself.  You’re a good man.  I believe it, and so does Brienne of Tarth.”

Tyrion moved forward, wrapped his arms around Jaime’s neck, and hugged him, being careful not to squeeze too hard.  “I’m going to miss you,” he mumbled against Jaime’s shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you too.  I love you, Tyrion.”

“I love you too, Jaime.”

Tyrion let him go then and offered Jaime his hand.  “Come.  You have to get out of here before anyone finds you.”

“I think I can manage on my own.”

“No, you can’t.  Now, let me help.”

Jaime took Tyrion’s hand, and together, they worked to get Jaime onto his knees.  He wobbled a little, and it was difficult for him to climb over the rubble, but somehow, he made it to the ground and finally stood on his own two feet.

He leaned on Tyrion’s shoulder as he turned to look back at Cersei, her body lying lifeless among the bricks.  “Shouldn’t we—?”

“No,” Tyrion said, pulling Jaime away.  “We shouldn’t.  There’s no time.”

Jaime took one last look at his sister, saying a silent goodbye, before finally turning away and following Tyrion, leaving the past behind.


	2. Chapter One

#### Chapter One

The quill scratched along the page, depositing clear, even letters on the parchment as Brienne of Tarth, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, sat in one of the few remaining rooms in the White Sword Tower adding lines to the Book of Brothers.

Despite the emotions flowing through her veins, her hand stayed steady as she chronicled Jaime Lannister’s bravest deeds in calm, smooth strokes. 

_Took Riverrun from the Tully rebels, without loss of life._

_Lured the Unsullied into attacking Casterly Rock, sacrificing his childhood home in service to a greater strategy._

Brienne dipped her quill into the inkpot once more, refilling the nib before lowering it to the parchment again. 

She hadn’t been Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for very long.  In fact, she had only taken her vows three days earlier.  The oath she had sworn had differed slightly from the one traditionally sworn by the Kingsguard.  Gone was the vow to serve for life, as was the promise never to marry or produce children.  King Bran had insisted upon changing the oath, declaring that service in the Kingsguard should be treated as a privilege and not a punishment.  Brienne had tried to argue with him, to remind him that such rules had been put in place for a reason.  But Bran had softly and calmly dismissed her concerns, reminding her that he was the king and that he knew what was best for all concerned.

_Pledged himself to the forces of men and rode north to join them at Winterfell, alone._

_Faced the Army of the Dead and defended the castle against impossible odds until the defeat of the Night King._

Brienne had spent a lot of time thinking about Jaime since he’d abandoned her at Winterfell.  When he’d first left, she’d cried for days.  Oh, not constantly, by any means.  She’d kept a brave front before Lady Sansa and the northern lords.  But when she’d been alone, alone in her chamber, alone in the bed she and Jaime had once shared, the tears had flowed freely.  She’d cried so much that she’d made herself sick.  She’d cried until the tears simply wouldn’t come anymore.

There had been moments, fleeting though they had been, when Brienne had been able to convince herself that Jaime had ridden south to end Cersei’s life, to finish her once and for all.  In those moments, Brienne had truly believed that she would someday see him again.  But then, reality would come crashing back in on her, and she’d realize that she was just a fool, that Jaime had left because he still loved Cersei, still wanted to be with Cersei, and for no other reason.

News of Jaime’s death had reached Winterfell a week after the capital had fallen.  The same letter that had contained the report of his death had also included news of Queen Daenerys’ demise and an account of the destruction she had wrought in King’s Landing.

It had all come as a great shock to Brienne.  Although she had been just as wary of Daenerys Targaryen as Lady Sansa had been, she had never expected such a horrific turn of events.  It amazed her that both Tyrion Lannister and Jon Snow could have been so wrong in their devotion to the Dragon Queen.  Unfortunately, it just reaffirmed for Brienne that men did stupid things for the women they loved, and it made her hate Jaime just a little bit more.

It made her hate him almost as much as she loved him.

Because she did still love him.  She could pretend all she wanted that Jaime Lannister meant nothing to her, that he was just a page in her life, the same way he was just a page in the Book of Brothers.  But that wasn’t the truth, and Brienne took some small pride in the fact that she was at least able to admit that to herself.  She was no coward.  She had never run from the truth.  She loved Jaime, no matter what he had done, no matter how badly he had broken her heart.  And she always would.

Brienne dipped her quill once more, tapping the excess ink from the nub.  She turned her attention back to the book but couldn’t bring herself to write the last line.  She’d finished recounting all of Jaime’s heroic deeds.  There was only one last thing to report.

Brienne pulled her eyes away from the book and stared out into the room, knowing what she must write, but struggling to find the words.  She had been tasked with recording Jaime’s legacy, and despite how they had parted, she could not, she would not, make him sound like anything less than a hero.  Jaime Lannister had not always been honorable, but he’d had his moments, and as far as Brienne was concerned, that was how history would remember him, as an honorable man.

Fighting back her own emotions, Brienne lowered the quill to the page and wrote one last line.

_Died protecting his Queen._

Brienne stared at the words for a moment, then lifted her eyes from the page.  She thought about Jaime, about how much she had loved him and about how she would never see him again.

Brienne blinked the tears from her eyes and finally closed the book.  She sat back in her chair and gazed out into the room for a long time, willing her heart to stop racing, willing herself not to picture his face. 

Jaime had never received a proper funeral.  After the dust had settled on King’s Landing, guards had been sent below the keep to recover Cersei’s body.  They’d found her lying among the rubble, broken and bloodied, but they’d never found Jaime.  His golden hand had been discovered among the fallen bricks, but nothing more.  Brienne was sure that his body would eventually be recovered, once reconstruction on the Red Keep began in earnest.  No doubt, he was buried quite deeply beneath the rubble, and the guards had simply not wanted to waste the effort in trying to dig him out.  And why should they have?  He had been on the losing side, after all.  They didn’t owe him anything, and neither did she.

And yet, there were times, late in the middle of the night when Brienne was lying awake in her room, when she would think about sneaking into the cavernous tunnels beneath the Red Keep and trying to uncover his body.  She hated thinking about Jaime all alone down there – dead, battered, forgotten. 

And sometimes, all Brienne wanted was for Jaime to stay there, peaceful and undisturbed.  Although he hadn’t received a proper burial, he had been buried, and his presence in the castle was something of a comfort to her.  It wasn’t as if she could feel him roaming the halls or watching her from afar, but it was reassuring knowing he was there all the same.  Her Jaime, forever a part of the Red Keep, forever beyond her reach.

There was a soft, low rap on the door, and Brienne started out of her reverie.  She turned her eyes toward the sound, silently wondering just how long she’d been lost in thought.  She cleared her throat and bid her visitor enter.

The door creaked open, and Tyrion Lannister stepped into the room.  Brienne inhaled a shallow breath.  Although it had been Lord Tyrion who had appointed her Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, they had barely spoken since her return to the capital.  They’d both been too busy making arrangements for the future of the Six Kingdoms.

“Am I interrupting you, Lady Brienne?  Or should I say, Ser Brienne?  Or is it, Lord Commander?”  Tyrion shook his head.  “I’m not quite sure what I should call you.”

“Brienne is fine.”

“Of course.  Brienne.  Am I interrupting you?”

“No, you are not.  I was just adding some lines to the Book of Brothers, but I am done now.  What can I do for you, Lord Hand?”

Tyrion pushed the door closed behind him and moved toward Brienne.  “Tyrion, please.  If I am to call you Brienne, you should call me Tyrion.”

“Very well, Tyrion.  What can I do for you?”

Tyrion stopped on the other side of Brienne’s desk and pushed himself up into an empty chair.  “You and I haven’t had a chance to talk since you returned to King’s Landing, and I think that we should.”

“About the Kingsguard?”

“About my brother.”

Brienne’s eyes flickered away from Tyrion, but only for the briefest moment.  She was sure he had noticed.  He was Tyrion Lannister, after all.  He noticed everything. 

“What about your brother?” Brienne asked.

“I realize this isn’t any of my business—”

“No, it’s not.”

“But I feel the need to speak to you about it anyway.  It’s important.  There’s something I need to know.”

“I hope you don’t intend to command me to confess my secrets,” Brienne said.  “You may be Hand of the King, but you are not the sovereign, and you have no control over what is hidden in my mind or my heart.”

“Ah, so you do still harbor an affection for my brother in your heart.”

Brienne looked at Tyrion with steely eyes.  She was not about to confess anything to him.  Her feelings for Jaime were just that, _her_ feelings, and she had no intention of sharing them with anyone, not even the Hand of the King. 

“Your brother betrayed us in his final moments,” Brienne answered.  “He abandoned the side of right and returned to the Red Keep to protect your sister.  How you can think I would hold the slightest bit of affection for him after that is beyond me.  I once thought that Jaime Lannister was a man of honor, but in his final days, he did everything he could to prove me wrong.”

“Yes, that may be true,” Tyrion said slowly, “but that doesn’t mean you don’t still love him.”

Brienne hardened her jaw and fought to rein in her frustration.  She had always been even-tempered.  It’s what made her a good fighter.  But Tyrion Lannister was baiting her on purpose.  She didn’t know what he wanted from her, why he was trying to make her confess her true feelings, but whatever his scheme, she wanted no part of it. 

“Only a fool would love him after what he did,” Brienne said.  “Are you calling me a fool?”

“No, not at all,” Tyrion replied. “I think you are one of the most levelheaded individuals I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.  I think you are smart and practical and see the world as it really is and not how you want it to be.”

“Then how can you accuse me of loving Ser Jaime?”

Tyrion rested his arms on the sides of his chair and leaned in closer.  “Because you do see the world as it really is, and you don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.  For all his faults, you know my brother was a good man, and that’s why you still love him.  Because despite what he did – or what you think he did – in his final days, you know that, deep down inside, he was honorable to a fault.”

“What I _think_ he did?” Brienne questioned.  “I _know_ what he did.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, of course, I do.  They found that blasted golden hand beneath the Red Keep not a foot away from your cursed sister.  I know what he did.  We all know what he did.”

“But do you know why?  For certain?”

Brienne straightened in her chair, her back going rigid.  “He told me why.”

“And what did he tell you?”

The breath caught in Brienne’s throat as she fought the memory she’d been avoiding for so long.  Tyrion wanted her to relive that horrible moment, the moment Jaime had turned his back on her, and that was the last thing in the world she wanted to do.

Brienne steadied her nerves before she tried to answer, willing her voice to remain calm.  “He told me that he had to go to her.  And then, he recited a litany of his sins, all the horrible things he had done just for Cersei.”

“And?”

“And that was it.  That was all.  He—” Brienne nearly choked on the word.  The memory was so painful, so visceral, that it nearly took her breath away.  “He turned away from me and got on his horse.  He rode through the gates and never looked back.”

Brienne left out the rest of it.  She left out the part where she’d begged him to stay, where he had ridden out of the yard as she’d stood there in tears.  How could there be anything honorable in the way Jaime had left her?  He had turned his back on her in favor of his sister.  He had abandoned her despite her pleading, and she knew she would never fully recover from it.

“What would you have done if he had survived?” Tyrion asked.

Brienne blinked, forcing her eyes to refocus on Tyrion, his words suddenly pulling her back to the present.  “What?”

“If Jaime had survived, if he had somehow managed to make it out of the Red Keep alive, what would you have done?  Would you have taken him back with open arms, or would you have spent the rest of your life shunning him?”

Brienne was startled by the question, not because she hadn’t thought about it, but because she had never expected Tyrion Lannister to ask her such a thing.  When Jaime had first left, she had spent days, weeks, imagining what she would do if he ever returned to Winterfell asking for forgiveness.  Sometimes, in her grief, she had imagined forgiving him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him senseless until he promised never to leave again.  And other times, she had imagined turning him away and vowing never to speak to him again, no matter how much he begged.

Brienne wasn’t sure how to answer Tyrion.  He was the Hand of the King after all, and if she wanted to keep her position, she knew it was in her best interest to stay on his good side.  But she didn’t want to lie to him, and she didn’t want him to know how undecided she was about the answer to his question.  So she said the only thing she could say, “I’m sorry, my lord, but I can’t answer that.”

The corner of Tyrion’s mouth quirked in a smile.  “It’s Tyrion, Brienne, remember?”

“Tyrion,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.  “I can’t answer that question.  Or more precisely, I don’t have a suitable answer.”

“Because you think I will find fault with you if you don’t give me the answer you think I’m looking for?”

“No, because without being in that situation, I have no way of knowing how I would behave.  It is very easy to make plans in one’s mind, but even the best plans can fall apart in execution.  I think the sack of King’s Landing is a perfect illustration of that point, don’t you?” Brienne asked in challenge.

For a moment, she thought Tyrion was going to be offended by the insinuation in her words, but suddenly, his smile broadened and he leaned back in his chair.  “I can see why my brother liked you.  More than liked you.”

“I hope you are not planning to press your own suit,” Brienne said.  “I realize that King Bran has done away with forced celibacy for the Kingsguard, but I personally plan to honor that commitment, even without the vow.  Besides, I’m sure you have better prospects than the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.”

Tyrion laughed.  “I no longer have any prospects myself.  Just duty and honor till the end of my days.  Apparently, I shall die just as celibate and alone as you, Brienne.”

“What a charming thought,” she said flatly.

Tyrion laughed again.  “Yes, I definitely like you.”  He climbed down from his chair and stopped for a moment to look up at her.  “Thank you for this little chat.  May I visit you again sometime?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe then,” he said with a shrug.  “But for now, I shall bid you good day, Brienne.”

“Good day, Tyrion.”

The moment Tyrion exited the room, Brienne sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping with the effort.  She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the chair, willing her emotions under control.  She hated talking about Jaime with anyone.  She still didn’t know what Tyrion Lannister had been after by visiting her, but she knew he’d been after something.  For a moment, he’d almost made her think that he had an interest in pursuing her romantically, but that was just absurd.  No, he wanted something else from her, she just didn’t know what it was, but she was sure she would find out in due time.

 


	3. Chapter Two

#### Chapter Two

King’s Landing was not at all as Jaime had remembered it.  Daenerys Targaryen had left an indelible mark on every stone, every brick, in the vast city for as far as the eye could see.  Half the buildings had been burned to the ground, while the other half had fallen walls and broken windows.  Even six months after the Dragon Queen’s death, little had been rebuilt.  A tent city had risen outside the walls of King’s Landing, and even within, merchants had erected makeshift stalls throughout the capital, hoping to lure a populace that was more than happy to stay beyond the walls.

Jaime had been leery about returning to King’s Landing, but he’d heard that Tyrion had somehow been made Hand of the King, and he needed to see his brother again before he made any decisions about what he was going to do with the rest of his life.  It had been a shock to discover that Tyrion was still alive, but then, Tyrion had been born with a silver tongue and could talk himself out of just about anything.  Obviously, he must have given quite the performance to convince Bran the Broken to make him his Hand, and that was a story Jaime was eager to hear.

After Tyrion had helped him reach the dinghy beyond the fallen walls of the Red Keep, Jaime had rowed south, keeping close to the coastline.  He had considered going north, but the current had been against him, and he’d feared what Brienne would say if she saw him again.  He’d spent a lot of time thinking about her over the past six months, and he’d ultimately decided that she was better off without him.  He was just as worthless as he’d told her he was the night he’d left Winterfell.  Whatever Brienne’s life was like now, he was more than certain it was better than when he had left it.

Once the little boat had cleared Blackwater Bay, the winds had taken Jaime toward Tarth, as if the gods themselves had wished to mock him.  He’d expended what little energy he’d had left to avoid the island and had eventually made land somewhere beyond Storm’s End.  He’d come ashore in a small fishing village and had been taken in by a local fisherman who had found him a maester and nursed him back to health.  Jaime had spent six months living among the smallfolk, and he had quickly learned that they didn’t particularly care about rank or status or who sat on the Iron Throne.  They just wanted to live their lives as best they could without starving to death or dying in someone else’s war.  Thinking he was one of them, they had been kind to Jaime, and he would never forget that kindness.

It hadn’t taken long for news of Queen Daenerys’ death or Bran’s coronation to reach the small villages beyond King’s Landing.  At first, Jaime had been stunned by the news, but he’d soon learned to accept it, along with the fact that Tyrion was now Hand of the King.  It had taken Jaime months to get his strength back, but as soon as he’d made a full recovery, he’d headed north for King’s Landing, knowing that he couldn’t stay in hiding forever.

Jaime had wanted to meet Tyrion outside the city walls, in one of the makeshift tent taverns that dotted the open landscape.  In fact, he had paid a messenger to smuggle a note into the Red Keep, asking Tyrion to join him.  But Tyrion had sent his own note in reply, demanding that Jaime visit the castle one evening after dark, so they could talk in private.

Jaime had gone to the specified gate and had been met by Podrick Payne – Ser Podrick Payne now.  Jaime had peppered him with questions – about Tyrion, about Brienne – but Pod had refrained from answering, just saying that the Lord Hand had instructed him to keep his mouth shut.

Jaime could only imagine what his brother had in store for him.  Tyrion had always been a bit arrogant, particularly when he had won a personal victory, and in the grand scheme of things, no one was a bigger winner in the game of thrones than Tyrion Lannister.  He had cheated death more than any man had a right to, and he was now the most powerful man in the Six Kingdoms.  Although Bran Stark wore the crown, Tyrion Lannister certainly wielded all the power.

Podrick led Jaime to the Tower of the Hand, or at least, what was left of the Tower of the Hand.  As far as Jaime could tell, the top two levels had been lost in the devastation, and Tyrion had taken to living on the ground floor. 

Jaime and Podrick stopped outside of a closed door, and Pod knocked.

“Come in.”  Tyrion’s voice carried to them loud and clear.

Jaime’s insides tightened at the sound.  When he’d left King’s Landing, he’d thought never to hear his brother’s voice again, but now, they were about to be reunited once more.

Podrick pushed the door open and stepped aside, holding out a hand in front of him and encouraging Jaime to enter.

Jaime cast one long, doubtful look at Podrick before slipping past him and into the room.  Before Jaime could say another word, the door closed behind him and he found himself alone with Tyrion.

Tyrion was sitting at a large table, the entire surface laid out with food.  He had a goblet in his hand, and as soon as Jaime’s eyes met his, he raised it in toast.  “Welcome home, brother.”

But Jaime didn’t feel very much like toasting at the moment.  “This is a bit much, don’t you think?” he asked, eyeing the feast before him.

“Not at all,” Tyrion said with a shake of his head as he lowered his glass.  “My brother is alive and well, safe and sound and back in the family fold.  We have much to celebrate.”

Jaime eyed him doubtfully.  “Other than Ser Podrick, who knows I’m alive?”

Tyrion shrugged.  “No one, I suppose.  Well, except Bran, of course.”

“You told him because he’s your king?”

“No, I never told him anything.  But he sees all and knows all, so I’m sure he’s quite well aware that you’re alive, even though we’ve never spoken of it.”

Jaime ambled into the room, drawn to the wealth of food waiting for him at the table.  It seemed as if Tyrion had instructed the kitchen staff to have all of Jaime’s favorites prepared in anticipation of his return.  “Isn’t the rest of King’s Landing starving?” he asked.

“Anything we don’t eat tonight will be gathered up and shared with the servants in the kitchens.  And anything they don’t eat shall be given to the beggars who sit outside the Red Keep waiting for scraps each morning.  Nothing will go to waste, I assure you.”

Jaime felt guilty for sharing in such abundance when he knew, firsthand, how the people beyond the walls of King’s Landing were suffering. 

Tyrion must have sensed his trepidation because he said, “You need to eat, Jaime.  You’re practically skin and bones.  Sit for a while.  Eat, drink, talk.  And then, you can retire for the evening, take a hot bath and put on fresh clothes.”

Jaime raised his eyes from the table and looked at Tyrion again, his emotions suddenly getting the better of him.  “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“And I thought the same thing.”

“How . . . how did you ever become Hand of the King?”

“It’s a long story.  One for another night.”  Tyrion held his hand out toward the chair beside him.  “Sit.  We have much more important things to discuss.”

Jaime moved closer to the table.  It was then that he noticed the gift Tyrion had left for him beside his plate.  He stopped dead still, staring blindly at the golden hand, the golden hand he had left behind six long months ago when he’d barely escaped King’s Landing with his life.

“I kept it for you,” Tyrion said.  “I was sure you’d want it upon your return.”

“I don’t.”  The words were out of Jaime’s mouth before he could even think.

“You don’t?”

Jaime shook his head.  “I . . . I don’t think I ever want to wear that thing again.  Too many memories.  Too many bad memories.”  He looked up at Tyrion.  “Will you remove it?  I . . . I don’t even want to look at it.”

Tyrion cleared his throat awkwardly.  “But of course.”  He put down his goblet and reached for the hand, moving it to the opposite side of the table, beyond Jaime’s direct line of sight.  And then, just for good measure, he draped his napkin over it, completely hiding it from view.  “I’ll just keep it safe for you in case you change your mind.”

Jamie turned his attention back to Tyrion.  He suddenly felt exhausted, and all he wanted to do was collapse, but there was something else he needed to do first.

Jaime rounded the table and approached his brother.  Before Tyrion could say another word, Jaime leaned down and hugged him tightly. 

Tyrion lifted his hands to Jaime’s back and embraced him just as fiercely, though no words were spoken between them.  They stayed that way for a long time before Jaime finally pulled back and settled himself in the chair beside Tyrion.

Tyrion poured Jaime a glass of wine, and Jaime accepted it gladly.  He held it up in salute.  “To you, brother, for saving my life.”

Tyrion raised his glass in turn.  “And to you, brother, for coming back to me.”

They both drank.

Jaime was grateful for the wine.  It was a fine vintage, the best he’d had in ages, and for a moment, he actually felt like himself again.  It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed any of life’s luxuries.  He’d almost forgotten what it felt like not to live like a peasant. 

Jaime lowered his glass and looked at Tyrion, quietly examining him.  Tyrion looked no worse than he had at Winterfell, all those months ago.  Despite the fact that the fate of the realm rested squarely on his shoulders, he looked hearty and healthy.  Tyrion thrived whenever he was in a position of power, and there was no doubt that he was thriving now.  Jaime was glad.  He had expected Tyrion to die the day they had last parted company.  The fact that he was still alive was something close to a miracle.

“What?” Tyrion asked as he finally lowered his own glass.  “Why are you staring?”

Jaime shook his head.  “I just don’t know how you do it.  You’ve cheated death, yet again.”

“And so have you.  Apparently, it’s very hard to kill us Lannister brothers.  Many have tried, but none have succeeded.” 

Tyrion’s lips quirked in a wry smile, and Jaime couldn’t help but smile in return.

“So,” Tyrion began as he put down his glass and reached across the table and started filling his plate, “where have you been for the past six months?”

Jaime turned his attention to the feast before him.  Suddenly, he felt famished.  “A small fishing village just outside of Storm’s End,” Jaime replied as he put down his own glass and started loading up his plate.  “I was fortunate enough to find a kind soul to take me in and nurse me back to health.  I headed for King’s Landing as soon as I was certain I had the strength to make the journey.”

“And what happened to returning north, returning to Brienne?”

Jaime frowned, his brows knitting together.  He didn’t want to talk about Brienne.  He’d already made up his mind that she was better off without him in her life, and he didn’t want Tyrion meddling in his private affairs.  “I’m sure Ser Brienne has better things to do with her time than sit around waiting for me,” Jaime said as he picked at his food.  “When I left Winterfell, I made sure to make a clean break, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

“But why?” Tyrion asked.  “Why does it have to stay that way?  You love her, don’t you?”

Jaime looked up at Tyrion, staring at him for a long moment, struggling to decide how to reply.  Of course, he loved Brienne.  Although he had never confessed his true feelings to her, he loved her more than he had ever loved any other woman, including Cersei.  He would always love Brienne.  But she deserved better.  She always had. 

“It’s been six months,” Jaime finally said.  “Regardless of what I once felt for her—”

“What you still feel for her,” Tyrion corrected.

“Regardless, half a year has passed, and I’m certain Brienne has already moved on with her life.  There’s no point in dredging up the past now.  I’m sure she’s quite content at Winterfell, and I don’t want to disturb her peace.”

Tyrion shook his head and reached for his wine. He took another sip, and when he finally lowered his glass, he said, “So, if you do not intend to go north to be with Brienne of Tarth, what do you intend to do?”

Jaime shrugged and went back to picking at his plate.  “I hadn’t really thought about it.  I assume the king has made you Lord of Casterly Rock?”

“He has not.”

“What?”  Jaime looked up at Tyrion in surprise. 

“King Bran has not granted anyone that title.  You and I are the last of the Lannisters, and I am here in King’s Landing, living out my punishment, and you were nowhere to be found.  Maybe he thinks neither one of us deserves it,” Tyrion said with a shrug.

“That’s absurd.  Of course, you deserve it.”

Tyrion shook his head, the hint of a smile on his lips.  “I’m sure the king has other plans for the Rock, but who are we to question them?”

Jaime was surprised that Tyrion could be so cavalier about something so important.  But Tyrion didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that their ancestral home was now empty, their father’s title in danger of being passed to someone outside the family.  Perhaps Tyrion knew more than he was admitting.  Jamie wouldn’t have been surprised if he did.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Jaime asked.  “If I can’t return to Casterly Rock—”

“You can stay here and join the Kingsguard again.”

Jaime was horrified by the suggestion.  “You can’t possibly mean that.”

Tyrion put down his glass and leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands over his chest as he eyed Jaime thoughtfully.  “Oh, I assure you, I do.  Though, I can’t appoint you myself.  It will be up to the new Lord Commander to decide if you should be reinstated.”

“And who’s the new Lord Commander?” Jaime asked offhandedly, vaguely wondering if it was someone he knew, or worse, someone he had offended.

“Well, that is a good question, isn’t it?”

Jaime glared at Tyrion.  “Who?”

A knowing smile spread across Tyrion’s lips as he replied, “Ser Brienne of Tarth.”

Jaime’s fork clattered to his plate, and he stared at Tyrion in stunned silence. 

Tyrion just laughed.  “I see I’ve shocked you.”

“You . . . you can’t be serious.”

“Of course, I am,” Tyrion replied, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.  “Ser Brienne came south months ago and agreed to take the position as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.  She was sworn in not long after you left King’s Landing.”

Jaime tore his eyes away from Tyrion’s and stared blankly at the table in front of him.  When he’d headed toward King’s Landing, he’d been certain that Brienne was hundreds of miles to the north.  He’d never imagined that she might be in the capital, that she might be right there in the Red Keep.  Suddenly, Jaime didn’t know what to do.  All he knew was that he had to get out of there as quickly as he could.

Jaime pushed his chair away from the table and stood.  “I have to go.”

“Don’t you dare,” Tyrion warned, his voice stern.  “Sit down, Jaime.  We still have a lot to discuss.”

Jaime turned his head, his eyes resting on Tyrion again.  “I can’t.  I just . . .”

“Are you a man or are you a coward?” Tyrion asked.  “Sit.”

It took Jaime a moment, but he finally lowered himself back down into his chair.  He stared down at the table again, trying to slow the blood racing through his veins.

“Brienne has done an admirable job of commanding the Kingsguard,” Tyrion said.  “She has proven herself capable and loyal, and I think she would be quite happy to have you among her ranks.”

Jaime finally forced himself to look at Tyrion again.  “She’s not going to want me for anything.  She’s going to wish that I had stayed dead.”

“How little you know about women,” Tyrion scoffed.

“I mean it.  What in the world makes you think that she’d ever want to see me again, much less accept me into the ranks of the Kingsguard?”

Tyrion reached for his glass again, though he didn’t drink.  “Well, as far as I can tell, Brienne is still just as much in love with you as you are with her.  Of course, she refuses to admit it, no matter how hard I’ve tried to make her confess.  But I suppose she just doesn’t want to share her true feelings with me.  After all, who am I?  I may be Hand of the King, but I am still just a sad little dwarf.”

“There’s nothing sad about you,” Jaime said.  “Unless, of course, it’s your sense of humor.  You just want me to join the Kingsguard so you can push me and Brienne together.  But it won’t work.  You said she’s already taken her oath, which means, she has already sworn herself to a life of celibacy.  If you honestly think she would break that vow, then you don’t know Brienne at all.”

Tyrion shrugged.  “Perhaps.”  He brought his glass to his lips and took another sip of wine.

Jaime turned away.  “I don’t want to serve under Brienne,” he said.  “I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Why?  Because you think it would hurt her, or because you think it would hurt you?”

Jaime inhaled a steadying breath, Tyrion’s question churning in his mind like a storm-tossed sea.  The truth was, he was a coward.  He was scared to face Brienne again, scared to see the look of disgust on her face when they were finally reunited.  It had been a long time since she’d looked at him that way, and even now, his gut twisted at the memory.  He deserved her disgust, even her hatred.  He’d purposefully broken her heart because he’d thought it would make their parting easier for her, thought it would keep her from following after him.  He had never expected to survive the fall of King’s Landing, but now that he had, he supposed he had no choice but to face the consequences.

“Well?” Tyrion prompted when Jaime didn’t answer.  “Why don’t you want to serve under Brienne?  Who are you really worried about hurting?”

Jaime sighed.  “Both of us.”  He finally looked up at Tyrion again.  “But the truth is, I owe Brienne.  I owe her a great deal.  If she wants to take me into the Kingsguard, if she wants to spend the rest of her life making me miserable, then that is her right, and I won’t take that away from her.  I will do whatever you wish, brother.  Whatever Brienne wishes.  It’s the least I can do to atone for my sins.”

Tyrion smiled again.  “You know, I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night.”

“Just don’t make me regret it.”

Tyrion’s smile widened.  “Oh, I promise, you won’t.”

 


	4. Chapter Three

#### Chapter Three

The small council meeting ran longer than usual the next morning.  Lord Bronn and Ser Davos had gotten into an argument about the cost of rebuilding the royal fleet, and Grand Maester Tarly had spent a good deal of time trying to negotiate a peace between them.  Tyrion had stayed relatively silent on the matter, and Brienne could only imagine it was because he had been distracted by other things.  In fact, he had been uncharacteristically quiet all morning, and she feared that could only mean something was deeply troubling him.

When the meeting finally adjourned, everyone began to file out of the room.  Brienne was halfway to the door, when Tyrion called out to her.

“Lord Commander, a word, please.”

Brienne stopped, and Bronn turned his head to give her a questioning look.  He raised an eyebrow as if to ask, _What kind of trouble are you in now?_   But Brienne ignored him.  She simply turned around, her shoulders back, her head held high, and faced the Hand of the King.

“Bronn,” Tyrion called past Brienne, “shut the door on your way out.  I want a private word with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.”

“A private word, huh?” Bronn scoffed.  “Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“Just shut the door.”

The door closed behind Brienne, and an oppressive silence settled over the room.  Her heart beat an uneven rhythm as she waited for Tyrion to speak. 

He offered her an awkward smile, as if he was trying to ease her insecurities.  Or maybe he was trying to ease his own. 

“Please,” Tyrion said, holding out a hand toward the chair beside him. “Sit.  There’s something we need to discuss.”

Brienne walked back to the table and lowered herself down into the chair.  She kept her posture rigid as she turned to face him.  “Yes, my lord, what is it?”

“Tyrion, remember?” he said with an uncomfortable laugh.  “There’s no need for titles here.”

“What is it, Tyrion?”

“We had a visitor to the Red Keep last night, a veteran of the Battle of Winterfell.  He is looking for a post, and I thought you might want him for the Kingsguard.”

A small sigh escaped Brienne’s throat, and her shoulders relaxed slightly.  Was that all Tyrion wanted to talk about?  A new recruit?  She had feared it was something worse, something much more personal.

“Who is he?” Brienne asked, wondering if it was someone she knew.

“Oh, just a soldier who fought among the ranks,” Tyrion said with a careless wave of his hand.  “He was here in King’s Landing too, when the city fell.  He was injured, and he has just finally made a full recovery.  I thought, perhaps, you could meet with him and decide for yourself if you’d like to take him under your command.”

“I will do whatever you wish,” Brienne replied with a deferential nod in Tyrion’s direction.  “You are Hand of the King after all.”

“But the Kingsguard is under your command, and therefore, all recruitment decisions are to be left to your discretion.  If you don’t want to take him on, I will understand.  I’ll just have to find him another post, that’s all.”

Brienne’s eyes narrowed on Tyrion, her curiosity piqued.  “Just who is this man?  Is he a war hero?  Does he owe you something personally?”

Tyrion nodded.  “Yes, and yes.  But as I said, you are under no obligation to accept him into your ranks.  All I ask is that you meet with him and decide for yourself.”

“Very well.  When would you like me to meet him?”

“Now.”

“Now?” 

“He’s waiting for you in the White Sword Tower.  I’d like you to meet with him at once.”

Brienne’s shoulders tightened, and her pulse began to race.  Obviously, whoever was waiting for her was someone important, someone the Hand of the King cared very much about.  Brienne knew she would have to tread carefully, lest she offend the most powerful man in the Six Kingdoms.

“In that case,” Brienne replied, “I will go now.  I do not wish to keep him waiting.”

“Thank you,” Tyrion said.  “I appreciate your prompt attention to the matter.”

Brienne pushed her chair away from the table and stood, and Tyrion did the same.  She offered him nothing more than a cursory nod before turning away and leaving the room.

In the months that Brienne had served as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Tyrion had never once asked her a personal favor, and this felt very much like a personal favor.  She feared what she would find when she entered the White Sword Tower.  Tyrion could have easily given her a name when she’d asked who she would be meeting with, but he hadn’t, and she was certain he’d had a very good reason for that.  Tyrion Lannister never did anything without a very good reason, and Brienne knew she wasn’t going to like whatever she found waiting for her, but she had no choice but to forge ahead.

The door to the common room was slightly ajar when Brienne finally reached it, and she slowed her steps as she approached.  Something felt wrong about the current situation.  Instead of feeling like she was walking into the common room of the White Sword Tower, she felt like she was walking into battle.  Her fingers twitched, itching to reach for the sword at her hip, but she resisted the urge.  She was not on the battlefield.  She was in the Red Keep, and there was no reason for her to draw her weapon just yet.

Brienne peered around the edge of the door, stealing a glance inside.  Although she had a fairly good view of the room, she couldn’t see anyone within.  So she did the only thing she could do.  She pushed the door open and finally stepped inside.

There was a man standing on the far side of the room, staring out one of the windows that overlooked Blackwater Bay.  Even though his back was to her and she could not see his face, there was something eerily familiar about him.  He was tall, with dark blond hair, and he held himself with the self-assurance of a man born to a noble house.  For a moment, Brienne thought she was seeing a ghost.  Had she not known it was impossible, she would have sworn that Jaime Lannister had come back from the dead.

Brienne’s heart thumped beneath her ribs, and her head swam as she fought to ground herself in reality.  She tried to speak, but she couldn’t catch her breath long enough to utter a single word.  She just stood there, staring at the phantom before her, waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to turn around and shatter her delusions.  But he stayed just as he was, still and silent and distant.

Brienne’s right hand curled around the hilt of her sword, and she forced herself to focus on the feel of cold metal in her hand.  It brought her back to herself, gave her the comfort and courage she needed to do what she had to do, to stop acting like a grieving fool and to start acting like the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

Brienne released her grip on Oathkeeper and cleared her throat.  “Lord Tyrion asked me to meet with you regarding your desire to join the Kingsguard.  He has left your recruitment solely to my discretion.  If I find you worthy, I shall accept you into my ranks.”

The man shook his head as he slowly turned around.  “If that’s the case, then you should probably send me away right now.”

Brienne stumbled backwards, her knees nearly buckling beneath her.  Jaime Lannister stood not ten feet away, staring up at her with the most hauntingly beautiful eyes she had ever seen.  Brienne’s own eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall.  She was overcome with so many emotions that her entire body felt numb.  Relief, joy, anger, fear, regret.  She felt all of it, and for a moment, she couldn’t even speak.

“I suppose my brother didn’t tell you who you were meeting with, did he?” Jaime said, breaking the awkward silence.  “He’s such a selfish little bastard sometimes.”

But Brienne barely heard a word Jaime said.  She was so overwrought that her mind could scarcely comprehend half of what was going on.  “What . . . what are you doing here?”  The words fell from her lips without her even realizing it.  “You’re . . . you’re supposed to be dead.”

Jaime laughed, though it was a bitter sound.  “Yes, I am at that.  But Tyrion saved me.  He found me among the rubble and helped me escape.  I fled King’s Landing and went south.  I’ve spent the past six months in a fishing village near Storm’s End, recovering from my wounds.”

Brienne tried to make sense of Jaime’s words, but it was nearly too much for her.  It took her a minute to filter through everything he had said, to understand what it all meant.  Finally, everything began to fall into place, and her heart pounded faster beneath her breast.  “You . . . you’ve been alive this whole time, and you didn’t say anything?  You didn’t send word?  A letter?  A note?  Something?”

Jaime shook his head.  “I thought it was better if you thought I was dead.  I thought it would be easier for you to move on.”

“Easier?”  Brienne’s hands curled into fists at her sides, and she fought the urge to hit him.  How many sleepless nights had she spent mourning Jaime Lannister?  How much time had she lost grieving him?  And for what?  “How . . . how could thinking you were dead make things easier for me?  After everything we’ve been through together, everything we’ve shared—”  Brienne’s cheeks flushed warmly at the memory of the few precious nights she had spent in Jaime’s arms.  She suddenly felt like an even bigger fool than she had the night he’d abandoned her.

“I didn’t think you would ever want to see me again,” Jaime said, his voice hollow.  “You deserve better, and I thought it would be easier for you to get over the pain if I just never came back.”

Brienne clenched her fists even tighter, her nails biting into the palms of her hands.  The pain felt good.  It grounded her and kept her from collapsing to her knees.  “Then what are you doing here now?  If that was really what you thought, why didn’t you just stay away forever?”

“I thought I was staying away,” Jaime replied.  “I came here to see Tyrion.  I had no idea that you were in King’s Landing or that you were Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.  I thought you were still at Winterfell.  I had no reason to think otherwise.”

Jaime’s reasoning did nothing to quell Brienne’s anger.  To know that he was only standing before her now by some cruel twist of fate was not comforting in the least.  “If that’s true,” she said, her voice hardening, “why show yourself at all?”  And then, before he could answer, the truth finally hit her, and Brienne laughed.  “Unless, of course, you’re planning to stay here in King’s Landing and you had no choice but to show yourself.  That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and no.”

Brienne wanted to throw him out of the room, to shove him out the door and tell him that she never wanted to see him again.  But she couldn’t.  She could barely even move.  Her limbs were shaking, her entire body trembling.  Instead of feeling sure and steady, she felt uncertain and weak, and she didn’t know how she was going to survive their encounter without bursting into tears.

“What does that mean?” Brienne asked tightly, certain she didn’t want to know the answer.

“It means that I didn’t come to King’s Landing intending to stay, but that when I heard you were here, I knew I had no choice.”

She laughed again, the effort making her ribs ache.  “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that you’re staying here to be close to me?  To what?  Lure me back into your bed now that your sister is gone?”

“No,” Jaime said softly, “not that.  I’m staying because I hurt you deeply.  I know that.  I’m willing to give my life to you, to join the Kingsguard and serve under you for the rest of my days.  You can punish me, torture me, ridicule me.  Whatever you’d like.  You can spend the rest of your days making my life a misery, and I would be grateful for the privilege.  I’m sorry, Brienne, for everything.  And I just want to do whatever I can to make amends, even though this is one debt I know I’ll never be able to repay.”

Brienne glared at Jaime, her eyes burning into him with thinly veiled fury.  She didn’t want to help him atone for his sins.  She didn’t want to give him the forgiveness he was seeking, to make him feel better about all the horrible things he had done.  It was bad enough that he had abandoned her for Cersei, but to spend six months lying about being alive was somehow a great deal worse.  If he had only told her the truth, reached out to her just once, she might have been spared months of suffering.  But instead, she had cried an ocean of tears while he had been just to the south, living his life and pretending that he was doing her some altruistic favor.

“I don’t want you in the Kingsguard,” Brienne replied.  “Tyrion left your enlistment to my discretion, and I don’t want you anywhere near me.  Stay in King’s Landing or go, I don’t care.  But I don’t want anything to do with you, Jaime Lannister.  As far as I’m concerned, you died beneath the Red Keep six months ago, and I never want to see you again.”

Brienne turned on her heel and tried to walk to the door, but her legs wouldn’t carry her.  She stood there for a long moment, trying to catch her breath, trying to hold back the tears.  She almost managed it too, until Jaime’s voice broke the silence.

“Brienne,” he whispered her name softly, just as softly as when she’d been lying in his arms back at Winterfell.

That was all it took to break her, and Brienne suddenly began to sob.  She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide her shame, but it was no use.  There was no way to hide her tears from Jaime, no matter how hard she tried.

Brienne felt him move up beside her, and her whole body tensed.  She dropped her hands and lifted her head to find Jaime standing in front of her, his eyes full of pain and concern.

“Brienne, I am so sorry—”

But she couldn’t let him finish.  Without thinking, Brienne curled her right hand into a fist, raised her arm, and punched Jaime Lannister squarely in the face.

Jaime howled in pain and grabbed his nose, coddling it protectively as blood began to seep through his fingers. 

Brienne squared her shoulders, and her tears dried up.  She suddenly felt worlds better, even though there was still a hollow ache in her heart.

“I suppose I deserved that,” Jaime said as he pulled his hand away and looked down at the blood on his fingers.  He raised his eyes to Brienne again and gingerly felt the bridge of his nose.  “I don’t think it’s broken, but if you’d like to try again—”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Jaime swiped the blood from beneath his nose and finally dropped his hand.  “I’m sorry, Brienne.  I—”

But she didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say.  She glared at him, stopping him in midsentence before she turned and walked away. 

With slow, even strides, Brienne exited the room, slamming the door behind her in one final show of fury.  She would be perfectly happy if she never saw Jaime Lannister again.


	5. Chapter Four

#### Chapter Four

After leaving the White Sword Tower, Jaime returned to the bedchamber Tyrion had assigned to him the night before.  It was a small room on the ground floor of the Tower of the Hand, but Jaime was grateful for it.  He had no desire to explore the rest of the keep, to visit the familiar chambers where he had spent his life making his worst mistakes.

Jaime went straight to the washbasin, rinsing the blood from his hand and face.  He looked in the small mirror above the washstand and felt his nose one more time, just to make sure that it wasn’t broken.  He’d deserved much worse, of course, and he was very grateful that Brienne hadn’t done any permanent damage.

Jaime knew he should have tried to explain everything to Brienne, tried to make her understand the real reason he had left her all those months ago, but he’d been unable to find the words.  Brienne deserved more than rationalizations and excuses.  She deserved action.  She deserved a physical demonstration of his repentance, though Jaime had no idea what that might entail.  All he knew was that he wanted to help Brienne work through her pain and anger in any way he could.

As Jaime stood there, staring at his own reflection, there was a knock at the door, and he groaned inwardly.  As far as he knew, besides Brienne, the only people who knew he was even in the Red Keep were Tyrion and Podrick, and Jaime didn’t want to see either one of them – Tyrion because he was in no mood to give his brother an accounting of his meeting with Brienne, and Podrick because he didn’t think he could stand the look of disappointment on the boy’s face when they talked about her.  No, there wasn’t a single soul in the Red Keep that Jaime wanted to see, but he knew the choice wasn’t his to make.

Jaime grabbed a linen cloth from the washstand and dried his face.  When he was done, he draped it over the edge of the basin and turned his attention to the door.  Reluctantly, he said, “Come in.”

The door opened, and Tyrion stepped inside.  Jaime almost swore, but he stopped himself when he saw that Tyrion wasn’t alone.  Samwell Tarly had entered the room right behind him, dressed in white maester’s robes.  Obviously, Brienne of Tarth wasn’t the only one who had improved their station since Jaime had left King’s Landing.  It was odd seeing Samwell Tarly in the garb of a Grand Maester, but Jaime wasn’t all that surprised.  There were very few capable men left in Westeros, and he’d only heard good things about Jon Snow’s former brother of the Night’s Watch.

“How did it go?” Tyrion asked as Sam closed the door behind them.

Jaime narrowed his eyes on his brother.  “How do you think it went?  Why didn’t you tell her who she was meeting with?  Why did you let her walk into the situation blind like that?”

“It wasn’t my place to tell her.  Besides, I feared if she knew, she’d refuse to meet with you at all.  I was sure your notorious charm was going to win her over.  I’m surprised I was wrong.”

“You were more than wrong.  Don’t you ever do anything like that again,” Jaime warned.  “The next time you do anything that has even the slightest chance of hurting Brienne, you’ll answer to me for it.  Do you understand?”

Tyrion laughed, a sly smile pulling at his lips.  “It is true love, isn’t it?”

“Go to hell.”

Samwell Tarly cleared his throat nervously, and both Jaime and Tyrion looked at him as if they’d both forgotten he was there.

“I hate to interrupt this heartwarming family moment,” Sam said, his gaze focused on Jaime, “but Lord Tyrion asked me here to check you over, and I’d like to get on with it, if you don’t mind.”

Jaime’s eyes found his brother again.  “Check me over?”

“You look like hell,” Tyrion said, “and six months ago, you nearly died.”

“I’ve already been examined by a maester.”

“When?  When you first stumbled into that fishing village?  Let Sam here take a look at you.  It won’t take very long.”

Jaime hated the idea of being poked and prodded by one of Tyrion’s lackeys, but he knew Tyrion wouldn’t relent until he gave into his demands.  So, without a word, Jaime unlaced his tunic and shrugged it off his shoulders.  Then, he pulled off the linen shirt beneath and walked to the bed.  He sat on the edge of the mattress as Grand Maester Tarly began to examine him.

“This looks dreadful,” Sam said as he inspected the scar on Jaime’s side. 

The stab wound Euron Greyjoy had inflicted on him had left a nasty scar across Jaime’s flank.  Although the wound had healed, it had healed poorly, and the skin was puckered and red.

“By the Seven,” Sam said, “how did you survive this?”

“Luck?” Tyrion replied as he ambled about the room.  “By rights, that wound should have killed him, but it didn’t.  I guess the gods have other plans for my brother.”

“Other plans?” Jaime asked as Sam continued his examination.  “Like what?  Spending my days wasting away in this room listening to you give me bad advice?”

“Does this mean you’re not joining the Kingsguard?”

“Oh, no, I’m definitely not joining the Kingsguard.  The new Lord Commander has made that abundantly clear.”

Tyrion laughed again.  “What did she do?  Draw her sword and drive you from the tower?”

“She punched me in the face.”

Sam’s hands froze, and he looked up at Jaime.  “She . . . punched you in the face?”

Jaime wished that Tyrion had come alone.  It was hard enough talking about Brienne with Tyrion, but having Samwell Tarly in the room just made things exponentially worse.  Brienne was a very private person, and she didn’t need Jaime confessing her secrets to anyone.  But he had already said too much, and he couldn’t take it back. 

“Yes,” Jaime replied, wanting to put the matter to rest as quickly as possible.  “She punched me in the face.  Thankfully, my nose isn’t broken.”

“Are you sure?”  And before Jaime could answer, Sam reached up and ran his fingers over the bridge of Jaime’s nose, just to check for himself.  A moment later, he lowered his hands and said, “You’re quite lucky, you know.  I expect, if she had really wanted to break it, she would have.  She was obviously holding back.”

“Because she loves him,” Tyrion interjected.

“No, she does not love me,” Jaime protested, horrified that Tyrion would even say such a thing.

Tyrion shook his head, making a tsking sound with his tongue.  “Oh, dear brother, you never did know anything about women, did you?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Jaime replied.  “How are things with you and your lady love?  I don’t see her anywhere around here.  How come you’re not with her?”

Tyrion began to fidget, clearly unsettled by the way the tide had turned.  “She’s had a considerable change of fortune, as I’m sure you’re well aware, and she has far better prospects now.”

“I’ll bet that hasn’t stopped you from writing to her every day though, has it?”

“Every other day,” Sam said.  “He sends a raven to Queen Sansa every other morning.”

Tyrion stopped dead still, staring at Samwell Tarly in stunned silence.

Sam must have sensed the tension in the room because he suddenly stopped his work and turned to look at Tyrion.

“What?” Sam said.  “Did you think no one knew?  Everyone knows.  You were smitten with her long before she returned to King’s Landing, and it’s only gotten worse since she left.”

“What . . . what do you mean everyone knows?” Tyrion said, his voice trembling with emotion.  “Who is everyone?”

Sam shrugged.  “Brienne, Podrick, Davos, Bronn.  King Bran, I suppose, though he’s never said anything.”

“But . . . but the rest of you . . . what?  Sit around and talk about it after I leave the small council chamber?”

A guilty blush crept into Sam’s cheeks, and he turned back toward Jaime.  “Of course not, my lord.”

But Jaime could tell from the look on Sam’s face that that was exactly what they did.  It seemed everyone in the Red Keep knew that Tyrion was in love with the northern queen, and they all found it quite amusing.

Jaime cast a glance at Tyrion and found him scowling, but he refused to feel sorry for his brother.  Tyrion was actively meddling in Jaime’s relationship with Brienne.  It was only fitting that the rest of the keep was meddling in Tyrion’s relationship with Sansa. 

“What’s wrong, brother?” Jaime asked.  “Angry that others are interfering in your love affair?”

“Pining from afar does not constitute a love affair, and you should be ashamed of yourself for even suggesting it.  Sansa is a pillar of virtue, and her behavior has always been beyond reproach.  There is nothing untoward in the letters I send to her.  It is all diplomatic correspondence, missives about supplies and troops and alliances, nothing more.”

“I’m sure you’d like to make an alliance with her,” Jaime said with a knowing grin.

“You’re wrong.  Regardless of how I feel about Sansa Stark, I have nothing to offer her.  No land, no hereditary titles, and very little gold.”

“Perhaps you should talk to your king about Casterly Rock.  If Bran Stark grants you the title—”

“But I have no right to it,” Tyrion said, stopping Jaime before he could finish.  “You have more right to be Lord of Casterly Rock than I do.”

“I may be the oldest living male Lannister, but that doesn’t mean I deserve the title.”

“Why?  Because you’ve made some mistakes in the past?  We’ve all made mistakes.”

“The mistakes I’ve made can’t be easily forgiven, especially the mistakes I’ve made that have hurt the Starks.”

“King Bran is very pragmatic,” Tyrion replied.  “He forgives easily, but mostly because the concerns of this world do not weigh on him as heavily as they weigh on the rest of us.”

“But I—”  Jaime’s eyes moved to Sam who was still standing uncomfortably close even though his examination had ceased the instant they had started talking about Sansa Stark.  Jaime had never told Tyrion that he had been the one to push Bran from the tower window all those years ago, and he might have confessed at that very moment if they hadn’t had an audience.

“Are we done here?” Jaime asked Sam, wanting some privacy.

Sam nodded.  “Oh, yes, yes.  I’ll bring you some salve for that scar later.  It should help the redness if you use it consistently.  Also, you need to eat better and to get some exercise.  Although I’ve never examined you before, it’s obvious that you’ve lost a lot of muscle.  You need to start taking better care of yourself.”

Jaime shrugged.  “What does it matter, really?  I’m fine just as I am.”

“No, you are not fine just as you are,” Tyrion replied.  “I almost lost you, Jaime.  I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Well, you may not have much choice in the matter.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Just that I’ve already spent too much time in the Red Keep.  I thought I could stay.  I thought I could make things better for Brienne.  But now, I realize that I can’t.  I should go.”

Tyrion moved closer to the bed, as if he expected Jaime to get up and leave that very instant.  “You can’t go.”

“There’s nothing for me here.  Brienne has made it very clear that she never wants to see me again.  I will not be joining the Kingsguard, so what would you have me do?”

A self-satisfied smile tugged at Tyrion’s lips.  “I have just the thing.”

Jaime sat up straighter, ready to argue, and Sam took an instinctive step back. 

“Oh, no,” Jaime said.  “Whatever it is, I want no part of it.”

But Tyrion ignored his protests.  “I am appointing you to the small council.  Pending the king’s approval, of course, I name you Master of War.”

“What?”

Sam chuckled, and Jaime turned to glare at him.

“Well,” Sam said sheepishly, “it makes sense.  It’s been six months and we haven’t found anyone suitable for the position.  King Bran told us that the right person would come along eventually, if only we were patient.  I guess he was right.”

Jaime bristled, all the muscles in his body tightening beneath his skin.  He looked at Tyrion again.  “I will not—”

“Of course, you will.  It’s your duty to do so.  You feel as if you’ve betrayed King Bran and his family, yes?”

“Yes, but—”

“What better way to atone for your sins than to serve the new king?  I’m certain he’ll approve the appointment, and when he does, you’ll have no choice but to accept.  To do otherwise would be to commit treason, don’t you think?”

“Refusing a position on the small council is not akin to committing treason,” Jaime said tightly.

“I don’t know,” Tyrion replied, turning his attention to Sam.  “I think it is.  Don’t you, Grand Maester Tarly?”

“Oh, I agree with whatever the Hand of the King says, of course.  If the Hand of the King says it’s treason, I’m inclined to believe it’s treason.”

Tyrion looked at Jaime again.  “See?  What did I tell you?”

Jaime shook his head.  “I don’t want any part of this.”

“Oh, I know you don’t,” Tyrion replied.  “But you don’t have any choice.”

“But Brienne—”

“What about Brienne?”

“She’s Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” Jaime said.  “She’s on the small council.  You can’t imagine that she’s going to be happy with this appointment.  She said she never wanted to see me again, but if you force me to be Master of War, she’ll have no choice but to see me every damn day.”

The smile on Tyrion’s face widened, and Jaime finally understood what it was that his brother was trying to do.

“No,” Jaime said.  “You can’t do that to her.”

“I’m not doing anything to her.  She is sworn to serve the king.  She will serve the king, regardless of who sits across from her at small council meetings.  And you will serve the king as well.”

“Stop interfering in my life!” Jaime shouted as he pushed himself up from the bed, towering over his brother by nearly two feet.  Suddenly, he didn’t care that they had an audience.  He’d had enough of Tyrion’s meddling, and he had no problem telling him so.  “If you don’t stop,” Jaime warned, “I’m going to send my own letter north.  I’m going to tell Queen Sansa that you’re in love with her.  I’m going to tell her what a sad, pathetic fool you are.”

But Tyrion just laughed, brushing aside Jaime’s threats with a wave of his hand.  “Go ahead.  Tell her.  Everyone else apparently knows.  Why shouldn’t she?”

“I mean it, Tyrion.  This isn’t some game.  This is my life.”

“Yes, and you’ve made a mess of it thus far.  All I’m trying to do is help you mend it.”

“Well, I don’t need your help.  I’m leaving King’s Landing, and that’s final.”

“I suppose you leave me no choice then.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Grand Maester Tarly, please speak to Ser Podrick and ask him to put guards at my brother’s door.  Ser Jaime is not to leave the Red Keep under any circumstances.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Lord Hand,” Sam said with a barely disguised smile.  “I shall see to it straight away.”

Samwell Tarly slipped from the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and finally leaving Jaime and Tyrion alone.

Jaime stared down at his brother in disbelief.  “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.  Very serious.”  Tyrion’s eyes trailed over Jaime’s chest.  “Just look at you.  Sam is right.  You need to eat.  You need to recuperate.  You’re all skin and bones.  Stay here, Jaime.  Rest, take care of yourself.  There’s nothing out there for you beyond the walls of King’s Landing, not unless Bran gives you Casterly Rock.  Stay here and see what comes of it.  I’m sure if you do, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“You sound as if you know something I don’t.”

A wry smile quirked Tyrion’s lips.  “It’s not that.  I suspect that Bran knows something that I don’t.  He hasn’t spoken a word about you in all this time, which I’ve come to learn means that he feels things are progressing just as they should.  I trust him.  And if this is what he wants, then I have to believe it’s for a very good reason.  Besides,” Tyrion’s smile softened, “it means I get to have my brother by my side for just a little bit longer, and gods help me, but I selfishly want that.”

“And Brienne?”

“I think she needs to work through this just as much as you do.  Give her some time to get used to the idea.  I’m sure she’s still in shock and things will be considerably different the next time you see each other.”

“You mean she won’t punch me again?”

“No,” Tyrion laughed, “maybe next time she’ll stab you.”

Jaime didn’t find Tyrion’s attempt at humor the least bit funny.

When his jape fell flat, Tyrion instantly sobered.  “All right, maybe she won’t stab you.  Maybe she’ll throw her arms around you and kiss you instead.”

“I think it’s more likely that she’ll stab me.”

“Probably, but whatever she does, at least you’ll know you deserved it.”


	6. Chapter Five

#### Chapter Five

Brienne swung her sword at Podrick, metal clashing against metal as he parried her attack.  They were in the training yard beyond the White Sword Tower, sparring in the early afternoon sun.  Winter had been blessedly brief, lasting no longer than the Night King had lasted at the Battle of Winterfell, and already it felt like spring.  The fighting did something to alleviate Brienne’s fury, but it wasn’t quite enough.

After her encounter with Jaime, she had gone to her bedchamber to deal with her emotions in private.  She’d broken a few things – a water jug, a goblet, a couple of plates – nothing important, but no matter how many things she’d thrown, she hadn’t been able to work out her frustrations.  Eventually, she’d left her room and gone in search of Podrick, hoping to exorcise her anger in the training yard.

Brienne couldn’t remember ever having been so angry.  She had thought she’d gotten over Jaime’s betrayal, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.  Seeing him had brought it all back.  She still loved him, of course, but she hated herself for it.  Even though she was happy that Jaime was alive, she secretly wished he had just stayed away. 

Podrick lunged forward and struck Brienne’s flank.  He instantly retreated, bowing his head in apology.  “I’m sorry, my lady, I—”

“Don’t apologize, Pod.  You’re a knight now.  You don’t ever have to apologize for being good at what you do.”

He raised his head, meeting her eyes again.  “Yes, I know.  It’s just . . .”

“It’s just what?”

“You’re usually more focused,” Podrick replied.  “I can’t remember the last time I caught you off-guard.  It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

“Because of who?” Brienne asked, lowering her sword.

“Ser Jaime.  I know he’s alive, and I know he visited you this morning.  Obviously, his visit unsettled you.  Perhaps we should put off sparring for another time.”

Brienne stared at Podrick in stunned silence.  She had assumed that, other than her and Tyrion, no one knew that Jaime was still alive.  “How . . . how long have you known?”

Podrick offered her a half-hearted shrug.  “Since last night.  Lord Tyrion swore me to secrecy though.  He had me show Ser Jaime to his chamber, but he wouldn’t let me talk to him, or to you.” 

Brienne exhaled a defeated sigh and finally sheathed Oathkeeper.  “I think you’re right, Pod.  I think that’s enough sparring for one day.”

Podrick sheathed his own sword but made no move to leave.  “Are . . . are you all right, my lady?” he asked, his voice soft, hesitant.

Brienne nodded.  “I will be.”

“But you’re not now?”

Brienne didn’t want to talk about Jaime with anyone, not even Podrick.  As far as she was concerned, Jaime Lannister was still lying dead beneath the rubble of the Red Keep.  At least, it was easier for her to keep believing that.  It hurt less, and at that moment, she was desperate for anything to take the pain away.  She had been such a fool.

Brienne looked over her shoulder, making sure that she and Podrick were alone before she answered.  When she turned to him again, she said, “I must admit, finding out that Ser Jaime is still alive was quite a shock.  When Lord Tyrion told me that I would be meeting with a potential candidate for the Kingsguard, I had no idea that it would be Jaime Lannister.  I was stunned to find him waiting for me in the common room, and I have not yet recovered.”

“But is that all of it?” Podrick asked, though he seemed reluctant to do so.  “What I mean is, I understand that you’re in shock.  I was in shock last night when Lord Tyrion sent me to fetch Ser Jaime.  But . . . well, after everything the two of you shared—”

Brienne held up a hand, stopping Podrick before he could finish.  “That is all in the past now, and a good knight, a true knight, does not let his or her feelings cloud their judgment.  My feelings for Jaime Lannister, whatever they once were, have changed irrevocably.  I have refused to accept him into the Kingsguard, and it is my hope that he will soon leave the Red Keep and I shall never have to see him again.”

Podrick glanced down at the ground for a moment, kicking the dirt at his feet before meeting Brienne’s eyes again.  “Begging your pardon, my lady, but before you came in search of me, Lord Tyrion commanded me to place guards on Ser Jaime’s chamber.  He seems determined to keep Ser Jaime here for as long as possible.”

The muscles in Brienne’s shoulders tightened, and her fingers unconsciously curled around the hilt of her sword.  She suddenly wished that Tyrion Lannister had been sent into exile for his crimes against the crown instead of having been appointed Hand of the King.  He liked to meddle far too much for her liking, and if he’d been standing before her at that very moment, she might have been tempted to cut him down. 

“Why . . . why is Lord Tyrion not sending Ser Jaime to Casterly Rock?” Brienne asked.  “Surely, that is the only place for him now.”

“I don’t know, my lady.  But I’m sure he has his reasons.  After all, King Bran didn’t make him Lord of Casterly Rock.  Perhaps it simply isn’t his place to do so.”

Brienne had always thought it odd that Bran had not granted Tyrion his ancestral lands and titles.  She’d convinced herself that the king had refused to bestow such honors on Tyrion as some kind of punishment.  But now, she was starting to wonder if Bran had reserved them for Jaime instead.  As the Three-Eyed Raven, Bran knew more than any other man alive.  He had to have known that Jaime had survived the collapse of the Red Keep.  Perhaps he’d just been waiting for Jaime’s return all along.

Brienne shook her head.  “I think, Podrick, that it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

They were both silent for a moment.  Brienne knew that Podrick was worried about her.  Over the years, they had developed a close bond, and she knew he cared for her just as much as she cared for him.  But she couldn’t reassure him any more than she already had.  Her emotions were still far too unsettled for that.

“I think I should return to the keep,” Podrick said.  “I feel as if I haven’t done you any good here today, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Podrick,” Brienne replied.  “I know that you are just concerned for my welfare, and I appreciate it.  Aside from my father and Queen Sansa, I think you’re the only person in this whole world who genuinely cares about me, and it means a great deal.  Thank you.”

“I wish I could do more.  I wish I could have warned you last night, but Lord Tyrion—”

“It’s all right,” she said, stopping him before he could go any further.  “You are a sworn knight of the Kingsguard, and your first allegiance is to the king, not to me.  And as his agent, that means that your allegiance is also to Lord Tyrion.  I understand.  You did nothing wrong.”

“Is there anything I can do, my lady, to make things easier for you?”

“No, Podrick.  But thank you for asking.”

“I could challenge Ser Jaime to a contest, best him in single combat to defend your honor.”

Brienne laughed, surprised by the fact that she was even capable of laughing at that moment.  “That’s quite all right.  I’m more than capable of defending my own honor, as you are well aware.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Podrick said awkwardly, his cheeks darkening with embarrassment. 

Brienne decided to put him out of his misery.  “You may go, Pod.  I think I will stay here a little while longer and practice my form.  Maybe being alone is what I need most right now.”

“If there’s anything else . . .”

“I will let you know.”

Podrick bowed his head and then quietly headed back to the keep, leaving Brienne alone in the yard.

Brienne unsheathed Oathkeeper and began idly swinging it through the air, enjoying the feel of the Valyrian Steel in her hand as she imagined slicing off Jaime Lannister’s head.  She quickly lost herself in the moment, her mind focused, not on her surroundings, but on the man who had broken her heart.  Without thinking, she swung a wide arc with her sword, swirling around and nearly colliding with Ser Bronn.

“Whoa!” he said as he took a quick step back. “Watch where you’re swingin’ that thing.”

Brienne was tempted to keep Oathkeeper trained on him.  She wasn’t particularly fond of the new Master of Coin.  She was thoroughly convinced that he didn’t know the meaning of the word _honor_ , and she would have been more than happy to slice him in two.  But Lord Tyrion liked him, and King Bran had sanctioned his appointment, so she resisted the urge to do him any harm.

Reluctantly, Brienne lowered her sword, but she refused to return it to its scabbard.  “Well,” she replied, “you should watch where you’re going.”

“I was watching where I was going.  You weren’t paying attention.  Let me guess, that blond toff’s got you all flustered, doesn’t he?  To be honest, I thought you two’d be fucking right now.  After all, it’s been, what?  Six months?  I know you’re used to going without it, but he’s not.”

“What are you talking about?” Brienne asked, her eyes narrowing on Bronn.

“Jaime fucking Lannister, of course.”

Brienne stared at Bronn in horror.  If even Bronn knew that Jaime was still alive, that meant that the rest of the keep knew.  “Who told you?” she asked, her blade inching upward as she fought the urge to stab something.

“Grand Maester Tarly is shit at keeping secrets.  Everyone probably knows by now.”

Brienne’s fingers tightened around her sword, and she forced herself to slip it into its sheath.  She was mere seconds away from slicing off Ser Bronn’s tongue, and she didn’t want to give into temptation. 

“Guess the reunion didn’t go so well, did it?” Bronn said with a shrug.  “Did he fuck it up or did you?”

“There was nothing to fuck up,” Brienne replied flatly, refusing to lose her composure.  “I don’t want anything to do with him, and I told him so, that’s all.”

“Heard that wasn’t quite all.  Heard you punched him in the face.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Brienne’s lips, but she fought it back.  “I did.  And I could have done a lot worse.”

“Of course, you could have.  I’m not quite sure why you didn’t, unless you’re planning to take him back.  Couldn’t mar that pretty face if you’re still planning to fuck him, could you?”

Brienne resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  Instead, she turned away and headed back toward the keep, hoping that Bronn would get the hint. 

But he didn’t.  He turned with her, falling into step beside her as she walked.

“So, what is it?” he asked.  “The fact that he left you for his cunt sister, or the fact that he didn’t die with that bitch?”

Brienne fought back another smile.  Although she wasn’t particularly fond of Bronn, she did appreciate his assessment of Cersei.  “It’s neither of those things,” Brienne replied, keeping her tone even. 

“Then what is it?  Not that I haven’t wanted to punch the fucker in the face a time or two, but he just came back from the dead.  You must really be furious if you hit him instead of fucking him.”

Brienne stopped, and so did Bronn.  She turned to look at him.  He was leaning to one side, his shoulders slumped, his hands on his sword belt.  He was the sorriest excuse for a knight she had ever seen.

“Is that all you think about?” Brienne asked.  “Fucking?”

Bronn shrugged.  “Fucking and drinking and gold, yeah.  Guess that doesn’t make me all that different from the Hand of the King.”

“At least Lord Tyrion doesn’t drink to excess anymore.  And as far as I’m aware, he doesn’t frequent whores either.”

“Yeah, well, why would he?  He prefers pining for the Ice Queen and feeling sorry for himself.  He’s an annoying little shit sometimes.”

There was much Brienne could say regarding Lord Tyrion’s feelings for Sansa Stark, and even more she could say about Sansa’s feelings for Tyrion.  But she wouldn’t.  Although Sansa wrote to Brienne quite often, she kept everything the queen shared with her in the strictest confidence, including her unspoken fondness for Tyrion Lannister.

“Lord Tyrion can pine all he wants,” Brienne said, “but nothing’s likely to come of it.  The king has made it clear that Tyrion will be his Hand for life, and Queen Sansa has an obligation to her bannermen to marry someone they approve of.”

Bronn snickered.  “She’s a fucking queen.  She can do whatever she wants.  And that little bastard has spent thirty-odd years talking himself out of situations that would have gotten any other man killed.  If she ever asks him to go north, you can bet your white cloak he’ll be headed to Winterfell before the ink is even dry on the invitation.”

Brienne shook her head.  She turned away and started walking again, irritated when Bronn followed. 

“Don’t you have someplace else you need to be?” she asked, tired of his company.

“Nah, not really.  This place is pretty boring most of the time.  Not enough intrigue in King’s Landing anymore for my tastes.  Figured it’d be more fun to annoy you than to head out into the city and just get drunk again.”

“You seem quite interested in Ser Jaime, why don’t you go annoy him?”

“‘Cause I stumbled on you first.  Just couldn’t help myself, really.”

“Well, you’ve done a sufficient job of annoying me.  Why don’t you run along and go find Jaime?”

Bronn laughed.  “Got any messages you’d like me to pass along?”

“No.  I have nothing more to say to him, now or ever.”

“You really think that’s gonna work?” Bronn asked.  “After what the Dragon Queen did to it, the Red Keep ain’t quite as big as it used to be.  You really think you can avoid him for long?”

“I’ll avoid him for as long as I have to.  Hopefully, he’ll leave soon, and once he’s gone, life can go back to normal.”

Bronn laughed again.  “And what is normal?  Don’t think things are gonna be normal around here for a good long time.”

“No, probably not,” Brienne answered, sad to admit it.  Even though it had been six months since the sack of King’s Landing, life was still far from normal.  It would take years, maybe decades, for things to return to the way they once had been.

“You sure you don’t have a message for your former lover?” Bronn asked.  “This is your last chance.”

There were a million things Brienne wanted to say to Jaime, but most of them were obscene.  “I have nothing to say to him,” she replied.  “But, if you are making the offer, all I can ask is that you do your best to annoy him as thoroughly as you have annoyed me.”

An arrogant smile quirked Bronn’s lips.  “Oh, I can definitely do that.”

 


	7. Chapter Six

#### Chapter Six

Jaime lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell he was going to sneak out of the Red Keep with two guards at his door and two more at the window.  Tyrion was serious about keeping him in King’s Landing.  Although Jaime wasn’t officially a prisoner, he sure as hell felt like one.  Tyrion was forcing him to take a position on the small council, and he absolutely hated the idea.  All he really wanted was to return to Casterly Rock, even if Bran never granted him the title that went along with it.  He wanted to go home.  He wanted to forget about all the terrible things he had done.  And more than anything, he wanted to leave Brienne in peace.

A sudden knock at the door jolted Jaime from his reverie, and he groaned inwardly.  “Go away, Tyrion.”

A second later, the door opened, and an all too familiar voice said, “It’s not Tyrion.  You should probably be thankin’ the gods for that.”

Jaime groaned again, sitting up in the bed to face Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, yet one more person he had no desire to see.  “What in the seven hells are you doing here?”

Bronn closed the door behind him and ambled toward the bed.  With a shrug, he said, “Just came to annoy the hell out of you.  Didn’t have anything better to do.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.  I mean, what are you doing here in King’s Landing, in the Red Keep?  Aren’t you supposed to be at Highgarden, or better yet, dead in a ditch somewhere?”

Bronn leaned his hip against the footboard of Jaime’s bed and laughed.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?  Mean you’d have one less person to give you shit now that you’re back, wouldn’t it?”

Jaime shook his head, still not entirely sure why Bronn was in his room.  “Really, what are you doing here?”

Bronn squared his shoulders, and with something akin to pride, he said, “I’m the new Master of Coin.”

“Like hell you are.”

Bronn laughed again.  “When your brother and King Bran were putting together the new small council, there were very few options open to them.  After all, just about everyone else was dead.  Tyrion knows I know the value of a coin, so he gave me the appointment.  So, not only am I Lord of Highgarden and Lord Paramount of the Reach, but I’m also Master of Coin.”

Jaime fought the urge to groan again.  Instead, he looked away and pushed himself off the bed.  He was still bare-chested from the exam Samwell Tarly had given him, and he started looking for his shirt.  He felt Bronn’s eyes on him as he searched the room.

“Well, don’t you look like shit,” Bronn said.

“Oh, thank you for noticing.”  Jaime found his shirt and shrugged it over his head, feeling a bit more in control now that he was dressed.

“What happened to you?  Sam didn’t go into detail.”

Jaime gritted his teeth.  He should have known that Samwell Tarly couldn’t keep a secret.  He turned his head and looked at Bronn.  “I survived the collapse of the Red Keep, and Tyrion helped me escape.  I’ve been in the Stormlands for the past six months, doing my damnedest not to die.”

“Did you ever think maybe coming back here wasn’t the best idea?  I mean, you did walk out on the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and I can only imagine she wants your hide.”

Jaime laughed, the sound hollow in his throat.  “Do you think if I had known that Brienne was here, I would have ever set foot in King’s Landing again?  I thought she was back at Winterfell, protecting the Queen in the North.  I had no idea that Tyrion had called her to the capital and made her Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.  I don’t even understand why he did it.  Brienne’s loyalty, her sworn oath, was to Sansa Stark, not to Bran.  It makes no sense that she should shift her loyalties just because the war is over.  That’s not Brienne.  Brienne doesn’t break oaths.  She keeps all her promises, no matter what the cost.”

“I don’t think she had much choice in the matter,” Bronn replied.  “King Bran requested her himself, and Queen Sansa must have felt obliged to honor that request because she’s the one who sent Brienne south.”

“It’s nice that Queen Sansa and King Bran feel they can play with other people’s lives so easily.  Brienne may be a sworn sword, but she’s not chattel, she’s not a piece of property that can be passed back and forth between the Starks whenever they see fit.  It’s disgraceful, if you ask me, and Brienne deserves better.”

Bronn let out a long, low whistle.  “You’ve really got it bad, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”  Jaime’s eyes narrowed on Bronn, not quite understanding the question.

“You’ve got it bad for the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.  And it isn’t just that you want to fuck her, is it?  You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Jaime shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bronn and gazing idly about the room.  “I left her for Cersei.  Everything was perfect, everything was wonderful between us, and then, in the final hour, I turned my back on her and walked away.  I did what I did for Cersei, and for her alone.”

“Horseshit.”

Jaime looked at Bronn again.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Horseshit,” Bronn repeated, just as much conviction in his tone as the first time he had said it.  “Whatever you did that night, you didn’t do it for Cersei.  I know that’s what you want us all to believe, but you didn’t work so hard to be a better man just so you could throw it all away and go back to your bitch sister.  I may not be as clever as your brother, but even I know that.  So why did you really go?  To kill her?”

Jaime clenched his hand at his side, trying to rein in his emotions, trying to keep himself from saying too much.  Brienne thought the worst of him, and maybe it would be better if she continued to do so.  Jaime was in no mood to defend himself to anyone.  Despite his good intentions, he’d made a mess of his mission to kill Cersei.  He’d hurt Brienne, and then, when he’d had the chance to end his sister’s life, he’d failed, choosing mercy over justice, and there was simply no way he could defend his actions to anyone.

“I had my chance to kill Cersei,” Jaime replied, “and I didn’t.  Instead, I took her in my arms and I held her as we both waited to die.”

Bronn pushed himself away from the bed.  Now, he looked disgusted.  “You’re a fucking idiot, do you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

“Look, I’m not exactly all that fond of your lady love.  She’s far too self-righteous for my liking, and quite frankly, she scares me just a bit.  And she’s not all that fond of me either.  But even I know she doesn’t deserve what you’ve done to her.  So, what are you gonna do about it?”

“Do about it?  I’m not going to do anything about it.  If I had my way, I’d leave the Red Keep right now and never come back, but my blasted brother has other ideas, has guards at my door keeping me here.  I want nothing more than to leave, to give Brienne the peace she deserves, but it seems that’s not to be my fate.  Fucking Tyrion,” Jaime swore under his breath.

Bronn chuckled.  “Yeah, we say that a lot around here.”

Jaime was tempted to laugh, but he didn’t want Bronn to think he was winning the argument.

“When’s the last time you got drunk?” Bronn asked.  “Really good and pissed?”

Jaime remembered the last time he’d been drunk.  It had been the night he’d first fallen into Brienne’s bed.  In truth, he hadn’t been quite as drunk as he’d pretended to be.  At the time, he’d thought it would make things just a little bit easier for Brienne.  But Jaime was not about to admit any of that to Bronn, so he replied, “I’m not my brother.  I don’t get drunk.”

“Well, today, you do.”  Bronn picked up the leather tunic sitting on the chest at the bottom of Jaime’s bed and threw it to him.  “Put this on and come with me.  I could use a drink.”

Jaime eyed Bronn doubtfully.  The last thing he wanted was to sit beside Bronn in some noisy tent, being needled about his feelings for Brienne.  But the alternative was being stuck in his bedchamber until Tyrion decided to set him free, and he hated that idea even more.

“Fine,” Jaime said as he finally shrugged into the tunic, “but I’ve got very little gold, so you’re paying.”

Bronn snorted.  “I’m the Master of Coin.  If I can’t buy my old friend, Jaime Lannister, a drink, what’s the point of stealing from the crown in the first place?”

“I hope you’re joking.”

“Only a little.  Get dressed and let’s go.”

Jaime pulled his tunic closed and struggled to secure the fasteners with his one good hand.  As soon as he managed to close the last one, he followed Bronn out into the hallway, the guards instantly stopping him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” one of the guards asked as he barred Jaime’s way with his lance.

“He’s goin’ with me,” Bronn answered.  “You got a problem with that, take it up with little Lord Lannister.”

“The Hand of the King instructed us to—”

“Fuck the Hand of the King,” Bronn said.  “I’ll guard the prisoner, bring him back safe and sound.  After all, I’m a seasoned knight and he’s only got one hand.  I’m sure you’ve heard how good I am, and how loyal to the crown.”

The guards eyed each other uncertainly, but before either one of them could protest, Bronn looked at Jaime again.  “Come on,” he said, “let me buy you a drink.”

Jaime pushed the lance aside, and the guard offered no further resistance.  Bronn wasn’t just a sellsword anymore, or a knight, he was a member of the small council, and doubtless, that meant something around the halls of the Red Keep. 

Jaime followed Bronn through a maze of corridors and out into the midafternoon sun.  Within a quarter of an hour, they were in the heart of the city, sitting at a long, low table in one of the many tents that had sprung up within the capital.  The tent tavern had one solid wall, the broken remains of what had once been a building, but the rest was all canvas and tent poles, a makeshift tavern for a city that was barely standing on its own.

Bronn ordered them a couple of beers and leaned back in his chair, staring thoughtfully at Jaime.  Jaime, for his part, had no interest in making small talk with the man across from him.  Instead, he kept his eyes on the room, scanning the crowd, absorbing the small details he saw around him.  Although people were laughing and the wine was flowing freely, there was an undercurrent of tension in the atmosphere.  The people around him looked thin, haggard, tired.  Even in their revelry, they seemed despondent, and Jaime found the whole thing quite unsettling.

“What do you find so interesting?” Bronn asked after a time.

Jaime still refused to look at Bronn, but he answered just the same.  “The city is dying, isn’t it?”

“Well, Daenerys Targaryen certainly did her damnedest to kill it, but somehow, it survived.  Kings Landing’s already got four taverns and six brothels – and that’s just inside the city walls – can’t really call that death, can you?”

A serving wench arrived with their drinks, and Jaime was finally forced to turn his attention to Bronn. 

Jaime lifted his tankard and took a swig of beer before answering.  “Four taverns and six brothels are not going to do anyone any good if the people are starving.”

“Oh, now, you’re wrong about that.  Four taverns and six brothels are about the only things that are going to do people good at a time like this.  If you can’t afford to eat, at least you can afford to fuck and drink.  And if you can fuck and drink, who needs food?”

“People need food.  People can’t exist on fucking and drinking alone.”

Bronn laughed.  “Sounds like you’ve never met your own brother.”

“Tyrion’s not really drinking and whoring anymore, is he?”

Bronn shook his head.  He wrapped a hand around his tankard and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.  “Nah.  He mostly just bitches about being sober and celibate.  He pretends to hate it, but really, he secretly loves playing the martyr.  It gets old after a while.”

“What’s being done to help the people?” Jaime asked, his mind still on the smallfolk.

“What is this?  A small council meeting?  Why do you care?”

“I spent a lot of time with the smallfolk after I escaped King’s Landing.  I’ve seen their plight firsthand, and I just want to make sure that everything that can be done for them is being done for them.”

Bronn sighed heavily.  “Look, if I give you an accounting of all the charitable projects your brother has in place to help the poor and the needy, will you please just shut the fuck up about it for the rest of the night and get drunk with me?”

“For the rest of the night?  It’s only the middle of the afternoon.”

“Well,” Bronn said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small purse, “I’ve got a bag of gold that says we can stay here all night.”  He threw the bag onto the table.  “So, what do you say?”

Jaime stared at the bag of gold.  Suddenly, it didn’t look as small as it had a moment earlier.  It was going to take a long time to spend that much gold if all they did was drink beer for the rest of the night.  But Jaime had nowhere else to go.  His only alternatives were returning to the Red Keep or trying to escape King’s Landing, and he knew Bronn was never going to let him escape.  For better or for worse, his best option was staying there and drinking himself into a stupor.  All at once, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

“Fine,” Jaime said.  “Tell me what I want to know and I’m yours for the night.”

“Whoa,” Bronn said, sitting back in his chair and putting some distance between them.  “I didn’t ask for that.  All the ladies might wanna fuck you, but you’re just not my type.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, I know what you meant.”  Bronn lifted his tankard and downed nearly half his beer.  When he lowered the tankard again, he said, “So, here it is.”

Bronn spent the next half hour filling Jaime in on everything that was being done for the citizens of King’s Landing.  Tyrion had made sure that food stores were being equitably distributed amongst everyone in the city.  Supplies were coming in from all Six Kingdoms on a daily basis, though it never quite seemed to be enough.  Every able-bodied man, woman, and child had been given the opportunity to work in exchange for food, and there was an active effort, not just to clean up the city and rebuild, but to create a sewer system beneath its streets to ensure the health of the citizenry.  It was slow going, but it was going.  And once things were settled in King’s Landing, the small council intended to turn its efforts outward toward the countryside and beyond.

“Is that enough for ya?” Bronn asked as he finally finished, lifting up his tankard and downing the rest of his beer.

“I suppose, though I wish more was being done for the rest of the Six Kingdoms and not just King’s Landing.”

“Things are bad enough in King’s Landing.  Let’s handle one problem at a time.”  Bronn turned his attention to a passing serving wench and raised his hand.  “Two more beers.”

Jaime watched as the dark-haired beauty winked at Bronn.  She left the table without even a glance in Jaime’s direction. 

“Well, how the tides have turned,” Jaime said with a bitter laugh.

Bronn looked at him again.  “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It’s just, I remember a time when every woman in the room had eyes only for me, and you found it quite irritating.  Now, it seems to be the other way around, doesn’t it?  I haven’t gotten a single glance since the moment we stepped into this tent.”

“And why should you have?  You look like shit, and you’re clearly broke.  You may still have a pretty face, but things being the way they are here in King’s Landing, power and wealth trump pretty and poor every day.” 

Jaime shook his head and lifted his tankard again, downing the rest of his beer in one swig.  By the time he was done, the serving wench had returned with another round.  She put the flagons on the table, took a couple of coins from Bronn, and then ran her hand down his thigh before walking away.  It was obvious from the look in her eyes that she was hoping to do more than just serve him drinks before the end of the night.

The girl left the table, and Jaime’s eyes followed her, though his mind was somewhere else entirely.  He wondered what Brienne was doing at that very moment and how she would be spending the night.  There wasn’t another woman in all the world that Jaime wanted to be with, but he knew he could never be with Brienne again.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Bronn said with a laugh.

“What?”  Jaime pulled his eyes away from the girl and looked at Bronn.  He hadn’t quite heard what Bronn had accused him of.

“I’ve already staked my claim on her.  If you want one, pick one of the others.  Hell, as a welcome home present, I’ll even pay for it.”

Jaime shook his head.  “No, no thank you.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.  You want something a lot blonder and a lot taller, don’t you?”

Jaime didn’t dignify that with a response.  He just picked up the new tankard the girl had left for him and raised it up.  “I thought you said we were going to drink.  So, let’s drink.”


	8. Chapter Seven

#### Chapter Seven

The next morning dawned far too early for Brienne.  She’d had a dreadful night, tossing and turning and thinking about Jaime until the sun had come shining through her window.  She’d barely slept, and as she made her way to the small council chamber, she struggled to keep her eyes open. 

Late in the night, buried beneath the covers, Brienne had cried her heart out.  She’d cried out her anger and her despair, and even her joy.  Because although she was furiously angry with Jaime for letting her believe that he was dead, there was still a part of her that was overjoyed that he was alive.  Just the day before, she had thought she would never see his face again, never hear his voice, never get lost in his eyes.  But now, none of that was true.  She had seen his face, heard his voice, lost herself in him the moment their eyes had met.  And she was grateful for all of it, even if she had no desire to ever see him again.  After everything that had happened between them, everything Jaime had done, just knowing that he was alive was enough for Brienne, even if their paths never crossed again.

Of course, Brienne knew that Tyrion had commanded Jaime to stay at the Red Keep, but she hoped that didn’t mean she would have to see him.  The last Brienne had heard, Jaime had been locked away in the Tower of the Hand with a detachment of guards at his chamber door, and she secretly hoped that he was still there.

As Brienne approached the small council chamber, she heard voices chatting within, but she paid no mind to what they were saying.  It sounded very much like Davos and Bronn were arguing again, which was certainly nothing new.  Ser Davos Seaworth was the epitome of honor and duty, and despite all his lofty titles, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater was the exact opposite.  Sometimes, it was fun to watch them argue, but most of the time, it just made small council meetings drag on longer than was strictly necessary.

Brienne entered the room to find Davos, Bronn, and Samwell Tarly already sitting around the long table waiting for Lord Tyrion.  And next to Bronn, in Brienne’s usual seat, she found an unexpected guest . . . Jaime Lannister.

Brienne’s feet faltered, and she stopped halfway to the table as the room fell silent around her.  She stared at Jaime, and he stared right back, though there was no bravado in his gaze.  He looked as miserable as she felt.  His eyes were red-rimmed, and his face was pale.  He looked much worse than he had the day before, and Brienne wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t slept or because he’d spent the night drinking.  Either way, she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him.

Had Jaime been sitting anywhere else but in her chair, Brienne wouldn’t have said anything.  But she was proud of the place she had earned at the small council table, and she wasn’t going to let anyone take it away from her, especially not Jaime Lannister.

“What is he doing here?” Brienne asked, her eyes locked on Jaime.

Bronn pushed his chair away from the table and casually leaned back to gaze up at Brienne.  “He’s on the small council now.  He’s the new Master of War.”

Brienne’s eyes darted to Bronn.  There was no mistaking the shit-eating grin on his face.  He’d meant it, every single word. 

“You can’t be serious,” Brienne replied, barely able to catch her breath.

“Oh, I’m more than serious.  Seems his brother thinks he’d be a good fit for the title, and as you and I well know, there’s no arguing with Tyrion when he gets something like this stuck up his ass.”

Brienne’s blood heated in her veins, and she could feel her cheeks turning red.  Although Jaime Lannister was brother to the Hand of the King, that didn’t mean he belonged on the small council.  During the battle for King’s Landing, Jaime had been a traitor to the cause.  He’d turned on Daenerys Targaryen and the northern forces at the last possible moment.  He had consorted with the enemy, tried to help Cersei escape, and then he’d returned to King’s Landing to be rewarded by his brother?  It wasn’t fair, and Brienne had half a mind to tell Tyrion just that.

“But we’ve done just fine without a Master of War for six months,” Brienne said, thinking it was the safest, most rational thing she could say.  “Why do we need one now?”

“Because I said so,” Tyrion replied as he entered the room behind her.

Brienne didn’t even bother to turn around and look at Tyrion.  She was afraid he would see the anger in her eyes.  Instead, she fixed her gaze on the empty chair at the head of the table, waiting for him to reach it.  She inhaled a steadying breath and willed her emotions under control.  By the time Tyrion climbed up into his chair, her true feelings were safely hidden behind an air of absolute calm.

“I beg your pardon, Lord Hand,” Brienne said, her tone even, “but for the past six months, I have been your advisor on military matters, and I believe I have done the job quite well.”

“And indeed, you have,” Tyrion answered, meeting her gaze without any resentment or malice, “but you are Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and it is wrong for you to have to do twice the work of everyone else.  My brother is a seasoned military veteran, and he is more than capable of being Master of War.”

“Yes, my lord, but—”

Tyrion held up a hand, stopping her before she could go any further.  “I understand your concerns, Lord Commander, and your objections.  And they are all duly noted.  But I have made up my mind on the matter, and King Bran has approved the appointment, so as of this morning, Ser Jaime is now a member of the small council.”

Brienne wanted to protest but knew it would be pointless.  Tyrion had made his decision, and nothing she did or said was going to change his mind.

For one irrational moment, Brienne was tempted to resign her post, to give up her position on the small council and return to Winterfell to serve Queen Sansa, but she didn’t want to give Tyrion or Jaime the satisfaction of seeing her turn tail and run.  Although Jaime’s presence on the small council made Brienne highly uncomfortable, she was too strong to let him chase her away.  She had worked hard to become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and she refused to give it up for anyone.

Brienne turned away from Tyrion, being careful not to look at Jaime again.  She considered asking him to vacate her seat but knew her request would only be met with derisive laughter from Bronn.  So instead, she turned to her right and pulled back the chair next to Sam, sitting down and keeping her eyes on the head of the table, determined not to look at Jaime no matter how sorely she was tempted.

Tyrion cleared his throat and finally began the meeting. 

After nearly six months of planning, work was about to begin on the sewer system that Tyrion had proposed during their very first council meeting.  Supplies were being brought in from all over the realm, and even from across the Narrow Sea, to aid in the construction.  Although the city’s food stores were still low, provisions were also being imported from beyond the capital to help shore up their reserves.  Feeding the people of King’s Landing seemed to be a never-ending battle, but somehow, the small council was managing to keep people fed, even if their bellies weren’t always full.

There was some arguing between Bronn and Davos regarding the royal navy, but Brienne only barely listened.  Even though she hadn’t looked at Jaime since she’d first entered the room, she had felt his eyes upon her the whole time.  She wondered if it had been his idea to join the small council or if Tyrion had arranged it.  Brienne had never thought of Jaime as a particularly ambitious man.  He’d always been more concerned with protecting those he loved than with his own glory, so she was fairly certain it had been Tyrion’s idea to make him Master of War.  Brienne wondered if Jaime hated it just as much as she did.

Unable to fight her curiosity any longer, Brienne’s gaze moved to Jaime.  The instant she turned her eyes in his direction, he looked away.

Brienne examined Jaime from across the table.  Although he was sitting dutifully in his seat – _her_ seat – watching Tyrion, his shoulders were slumped and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world at that moment but the small council chamber.  Brienne hadn’t noticed it the day before, but Jaime had lost considerable weight since she’d last seen him, and he didn’t look at all well.  He looked as if he’d been starved and was in need of a hearty meal and some fresh air.  He looked like he could use a friend.

Brienne bit the inside of her lip and looked at Tyrion again, hating herself for having even a single tender thought for the man who had broken her heart and lied about being dead for six long months.  He hadn’t even spoken a word to her that morning, and already, she was in danger of falling for his charms.  She silently swore to herself, then and there, that she would never let that happen again.

Brienne did her best to focus her attention on the meeting, but the voices around her just seemed to bleed into each other as she tried to ignore the man sitting across from her.  She didn’t feel his eyes upon her again, but she was ever conscious of his presence in the room.  It was as if she could feel her heart beating in time with his, and it was driving her just a little bit mad.

“Lord Commander.” 

Brienne heard someone call to her, and it took her a moment to realize who it was.  She blinked the confusion from her eyes and refocused her attention on Tyrion.  “Yes, Lord Hand?”

“Since our new Master of War has been away from King’s Landing for so long and is not familiar with what has occurred in his absence, after we are done here, I would like you to meet privately with him and apprise him of the current state of our military affairs.”

“I beg your pardon, my lord?”

“That really isn’t necessary,” Jaime interjected, speaking for the first time that morning.

Brienne resisted the urge to look at him, keeping her eyes on Tyrion instead.

But Tyrion turned away from her to look at Jaime.  “I think it is quite necessary.  No one knows the intricacies of our military affairs better than Lady Brienne.”

“I’d wager you know them just as well,” Jaime countered, obviously not wanting to be alone with her any more than she wanted to be alone with him.

“Perhaps.  Perhaps not,” Tyrion said with a shrug.  “Either way, I have better things to do with my time than train you in your new position.  Since Lady Brienne was acting Master of War before you arrived, she is more than qualified to train you.  I leave the job to her, and that is final.”

Brienne cast a sidelong glance at Jaime.  He looked just as annoyed as she felt.  Even though she was certain there was very little they could agree on anymore, she was sure they could both agree that Tyrion was being a manipulative ass.

“Lady Brienne,” Tyrion said, drawing her eyes back to him, “do you have any further objections?”

Brienne opened her mouth to protest, but Tyrion didn’t give her a chance to reply.

“You don’t?” he said, answering the question for her.  “Well, that’s wonderful.  In that case, this meeting is adjourned.” 

Tyrion pushed his chair away from the table and stood, forcing the rest of the small council members to stand as well. 

“Oh, and just to make things easier,” Tyrion said as an afterthought, still looking at Brienne, “I took the liberty of having the afternoon meal served in your quarters so that you and Jaime can work through lunch undisturbed.”

The blood rushed to Brienne’s cheeks, and Ser Bronn laughed at her misfortune.  Tyrion, however, didn’t say another word.  He just turned and left the small council chamber. 

“Well, that’s one way to get the two of you together, isn’t it?” Bronn said.

Brienne skewered him with her eyes, but it only made him laugh harder. 

“Just don’t hit him so hard next time,” Bronn advised.  “Look at him.”  He nodded toward Jaime.  “There’s hardly anything left of him.  You just might break him in two.”

Bronn gave Brienne a knowing look before turning around and ambling out of the room, leaving her and Jaime alone with Davos and Sam

Sam cleared his throat, the sound ending on an awkward little laugh.  “Well, Ser Jaime, now that you are the new Master of War, if there is anything you need, please, don’t hesitate to ask.  I’m sure I won’t be as much help as Lady Brienne, but I will do all I can.”

Jaime nodded in Sam’s direction but didn’t say anything in reply.

“All right then,” Sam said, “I’ll be in my chambers if you need me.”  He glanced at Brienne, bobbing his head in a courteous gesture before scurrying from the room.

“Ser Jaime,” Davos said, “I know this may not feel like the right time, but someone should welcome you to the small council.  Although you and I have not always fought on the same side, you are an accomplished soldier, and I, for one, welcome your experience and expertise.  Gods know, the Six Kingdoms are in such a sorry state, we can use all the help we can get.”

“Thank you, Ser Davos,” Jaime replied.  “I shall endeavor to serve the realm as best I can.”

Davos cast a quick glance at Brienne, offering her a reassuring smile before excusing himself and leaving the room.

The chamber was deathly quiet as Brienne and Jaime stood on opposite sides of the table, refusing to look at each other.  Brienne knew she was acting like a scorned woman, letting her emotions get the best of her, but she couldn’t quite help herself.  She hadn’t asked to work with Jaime Lannister.  In fact, after their encounter the day before, she had hoped never to see him again.  But now, they were being thrown together, whether they liked it or not, and she had no choice but to face him.

Brienne turned and looked at Jaime again.  She found him staring at the floor, looking very much defeated, but she refused to feel the least bit sorry for him.  Unlike her, he had earned his punishment, and she would not pity him.

Jaime must have felt her watching him because he slowly raised his head and met her gaze.  Brienne’s heart skipped a beat the instant their eyes met, and she forced herself not to react.  She didn’t want to give Jaime the satisfaction of knowing that he affected her in any way.

“Brienne, you must know that—”

“Lord Tyrion has commanded us to meet in my quarters to discuss military affairs,” she said, cutting him off.  “It is our duty to do as the Hand of the King has instructed.  Are you coming?  Or are you planning to just stand there all day feeling sorry for yourself?”

“No, I’ll come,” Jaime said.  “After all, what choice do I have?  It seems Tyrion is determined to make something happen that simply cannot happen.”

Brienne knew Jaime was right.  And suddenly, she started to question everything Tyrion had ever done for her, including appointing her Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.  Tyrion had to have known, or at least hoped, that Jaime would one day return, and no doubt, he had appointed her to the small council just to put her in Jaime’s path.  Brienne hated being manipulated.  Men had been trying to manipulate her in one way or another her entire life.  The only saving grace in this sad little scenario was that she wasn’t the only one Tyrion was trying to manipulate.  He was trying to manipulate Jaime as well.

“I’m sure your brother will learn, sooner rather than later, that this scheme of his isn’t going to work,” Brienne replied.  “In the meantime, we have no choice but to do as we’re told.  Unless, of course, you are willing to resign your post as Master of War and leave King’s Landing.”

“If I could, I would.  But Tyrion is determined to keep me here for the time being, and I have little choice in the matter.  Besides, I have nowhere else to go.”

Jaime looked like a dog that had been starved and mistreated.  He looked like all he needed, all he wanted, was for someone to love him.  But Brienne refused to offer him any comfort.  She knew he wasn’t acting, knew that he truly felt remorseful for everything he had done, but it was all too little, too late.  Jaime had already had his chance with her, and he’d thrown it all away for Cersei.

Brienne didn’t even offer Jaime a reply.  She just turned around and headed toward the door, listening as he fell into step behind her.

 


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting the same note here that I posted on Chapter 16 of “The Bastard of Winterfell,” so some of you may have already seen it.
> 
> Since I’ll be spending the majority of this week at the annual Romance Writers of America conference, I won’t have any time for editing, which means that the next chapter of this story is going to be delayed. Instead of posting a week from now, it’s more likely that I’ll post in two weeks. I’m so sorry, but I think it’s going to be unavoidable. I will do my best to reply to comments before I leave, but if for some reason I’m unable to do that, please know that I will reply to everyone once I’ve gotten home and had a chance to recuperate.

#### Chapter Eight

Jaime followed Brienne from the small council chamber, keeping a steady pace behind her.  He wanted to strangle Tyrion, to wrap his one good hand around his brother’s throat and choke the life out of him.  He knew what Tyrion was doing – a blind man could have seen what Tyrion was doing.  He was pushing Jaime and Brienne together, despite the fact that Brienne wanted nothing to do with him.  Jaime didn’t blame her, of course.  How could he?  She was right.  He was wretched, and she deserved a great deal better.

By the time Jaime and Brienne reached the White Sword Tower, the afternoon meal was already waiting for them.  It was a modest offering, particularly in comparison to the feast that had awaited Jaime upon his arrival, but it hardly mattered because Jaime wasn’t hungry in the least.  He knew there was work to do, and all he wanted was to be done with it so that he could get out of Brienne’s way as quickly as possible.

As soon as they entered the chamber, Brienne moved to the far side of the small table in the center of the room.  The table was usually reserved for work, not for dining, but Tyrion had completely ignored that fact. 

Brienne sat down, and Jaime took the empty chair opposite her.  If she had wanted to work – to show him ledgers and maps, facts and figures – there was no room to do so.  The table had been laid out with a full assortment of plates and utensils.  There were even two flickering candles and some flowers in the center of the arrangement as if Tyrion had wanted the meal to seem almost romantic.

Brienne stared at the little cluster of purple flowers, a frown furrowing her brow.

Despite his insecurities, Jaime broke the awkward silence between them.  “I’d like to apologize—”

“Don’t,” Brienne said, her eyes darting up to meet his.  She was still frowning, and Jaime was certain that was a look he was going to see quite often in the coming days, weeks, and years.  “I don’t want to hear how sorry you are.”

“I wasn’t apologizing for me,” Jaime replied.  “I was apologizing for my ass of a brother.  This,” Jaime said, lifting the flowers from the vase, “this is just obscene.  Would you like me to discard them?”

Brienne’s eyes narrowed on him as if she was carefully contemplating her answer.  If she said yes, she’d be asking him a favor.  But if she said no, they’d have to continue to suffer Tyrion’s ridiculous attempt at creating a romantic atmosphere in the middle of the White Sword Tower.  Either way, Brienne would lose, and Brienne hated to lose, especially to an opponent she believed to be unworthy of her.

“Leave them be,” Brienne finally said, as if she would rather bear the indignity of sharing a romantic meal with him than dare ask him a favor.

Jaime put the flowers back in the vase and slipped his hand under the table, feeling like a child who had just been scolded for trying to do something good.  “Well, in that case, perhaps we should just get on with it.  I’m not terribly hungry, but you, go ahead and eat.”

Brienne’s eyes stayed on Jaime as she reached for the flagon of wine by her side.  She poured herself half a glass, and then, she leaned across the table to fill Jaime’s cup.

He quickly put his hand over the top of his glass, stopping her before she could pour.  “I told you, I have no appetite, for either food or wine.”

“Lord Tyrion commanded us to eat, so we will eat.  Besides, I don’t fancy sitting here for the next half hour eating my lunch while you stare woefully down at your lap like a kicked puppy.”

Jaime’s mouth gaped open in horror.  “I do not look like a kicked puppy.”

“Of course, you do.  And if you think I’m going to fall for that, think I’m going to feel sorry for you, you can think again.  Now,” Brienne said, staring pointedly at his glass, “move your hand or prepare to have half a flagon of wine poured over it.  It’s your choice.”

Jaime reluctantly pulled his hand away, and Brienne filled his glass to the rim.  He had no intention of drinking the entire thing, though he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to take just a sip.  He’d had far too much to drink the night before, and he was still nursing a bad headache.  He would have slept straight through the morning if Tyrion hadn’t appointed him to the bloody small council.

Brienne put the flagon down and began filling her plate.  Jaime didn’t want her reprimanding him again, so he did the same.  He only took the lightest fare, his stomach still unaccustomed to the rich dishes favored in the capital.  Jaime knew it was going to be a long time before his appetite returned to what it once had been.

They ate in silence, the air around them so full of unspoken tension that Jaime thought it might drive him mad.  Every time he lifted his glass to take a sip of wine, he stole a glance at Brienne, but she kept her eyes purposefully averted, eating her meal as if she were completely alone.

Jaime hated what had become of them.  Six months earlier, Brienne of Tarth had been the closest thing he had ever known to a true friend.  She had trusted him, cared for him – maybe even loved him.  And he had thrown it all away in a single night.  Of course, he’d had good reason at the time – more than good reason – but now, none of it seemed worth it.  He knew he should have stayed at Winterfell when he’d had the chance.  He should have left Cersei’s fate up to Daenerys Targaryen and her one remaining dragon.  After all, in the end, it had been Daenerys who had ended Cersei’s life.  Jaime’s presence in the Red Keep hadn’t made the slightest bit of difference.

“Must you stare like that?” Brienne said, her eyes finally meeting Jaime’s. 

“I’m sorry.  I hadn’t realized I was staring.”

“What are you thinking?” Brienne asked.  “That you’re lucky you didn’t stay at Winterfell and end up beholden to me for the rest of your life?  That would have been a great tragedy, wouldn’t it have?”

“No,” Jaime said softly.  “That wouldn’t have been a tragedy at all.”

“Really?  Do you truly believe that, or are you just trying to pander to my vanity so that you can feel better about yourself?”

“I’m not pandering to anything,” Jaime replied, lowering his glass to the table.  “I’m sorry that I ever left Winterfell.  If I could go back—”

“But you can’t go back.  None of us can.  And even if we could, what good would it do us?  I’d still know what kind of man you really are.  I’d still know where your heart truly lies.”

Jaime felt a hollow ache in his chest.  There was so much he longed to say to Brienne, so much he wanted to explain, needed to explain, but he knew she was in no condition to hear him out.  She would barely let him say that he was sorry, much less allow him to offer an explanation. 

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me,” Jaime said.  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.  But since we have to work together, maybe we should try to find a way to put the past behind us, at least for now, and do what has to be done.”

Brienne squared her shoulders, her chin inching just a little bit higher.  “I have no intention of shirking my duties.  If we must serve together on the small council, then so be it.  I have sworn my loyalty to King Bran, and I will not fail him, regardless of how I feel about you.”

“Well, then, at least that’s one thing we can agree on.  That’s certainly more than I expected.”

Brienne turned away from him then and went back to her meal.  They continued on in silence, though some of the tension had drained from the room.  After a few minutes, Brienne looked at Jaime again and surprised him by asking, “What do you know about the current military might of the Six Kingdoms?”

“I . . . I don’t know much,” Jaime answered.  “I know how things stood when I left King’s Landing six months ago, but I’m sure much has changed since then.  I have heard that both the Unsullied and the Dothraki left Westeros not long after their queen was killed.  I know that, at the time, that was the bulk of the northern army, though I would imagine that the Lannister forces have joined the fold since then.”

“What there is of them,” Brienne replied.  “Unfortunately, Daenerys Targaryen decimated the Lannister army and destroyed the Golden Company, not that King Bran would have chosen to make use of them.  The royal navy is in tatters, though new ships have already been rebuilt.  But the biggest problem for all our forces is recruitment.  There aren’t many families that are willing to send their young men to King’s Landing to become soldiers.  The older houses that still survive, want to keep their heirs close to home, and with nothing but poverty and destruction in the capital, it’s very difficult to induce anyone to visit, much less stay.”

“Surely, it can’t be that bad,” Jaime said.  “What kind of numbers are we talking about?  How weak are the crown’s forces?”

Brienne began reciting numbers, and for a moment, Jaime forgot that there was any rift between them at all.  He was surprised to find that the realm’s forces were in such a sorry state.  But then, so many men had died fighting in pointless wars over the past decade that it was no wonder there was hardly anyone left to replace them. 

When Brienne was done giving him a full accounting of the situation, Jaime said, “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

“And it could be better.”  Brienne rested her arms on the table and leaned in closer.  “So tell me, Ser Jaime, what are you going to do about it?” 

There was challenge in the question, and Jaime wasn’t quite sure that he was up to the task of answering it, at least not yet. 

“I’ve just returned to King’s Landing,” he said.  “There’s a lot more I have to familiarize myself with before I formulate a plan.  But I will find a way to replenish our forces since it is now my duty to do so.  You have my word.”

Brienne snorted and leaned back in her chair.  Jaime knew she didn’t believe him.  His word was worthless to her now, more worthless than it had been when he’d been her prisoner on their journey to King’s Landing.

“It’s going to take more than your word to rebuild our forces,” Brienne said.  “It’s going to take a clever mind and hard work.  I dare say, I don’t quite know if you’re up to the task.”

“And what have you done to improve the situation?” Jaime asked before he could stop himself.  The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize Brienne, but he’d forgotten himself for a moment.

“At my direction, Lord Tyrion has implemented an incentive program for all young men willing to join our ranks.  What gold and supplies we have been able to spare have gone toward recruitment.  It hasn’t made a large impact, but it has almost doubled our forces.  I think, under the circumstances, that is more than anyone could have hoped for in such a short amount of time.  Without paying for foreign mercenaries, of course.”

“Like the Golden Company?”

“Yes.  That was a giant waste of Lannister gold, wasn’t it?” Brienne replied, derision in her voice.

“Not my idea at all, I assure you.”

“Really?  I thought you and your sister were of one mind in everything.  Isn’t that right?”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed on Brienne.  “If you want to talk about my sister, we’ll talk about my sister.  But if we do, that means you have to hear me out, you have to hear everything I have to say without interrupting me before I finish.”

“And what makes you think I want to hear anything you have to say?”

“I know you’re angry, Brienne.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said curtly.  “It’s Lord Commander, or Ser Brienne, if you must.”

“All right, _Ser_ Brienne,” Jaime said, choosing the title he himself had given her.  “I know you’re angry.  You have every right to be angry.  But if we are going to be forced to work together, I think we should clear the air between us first.  I think it would be better for both of us.”

“You don’t have any idea what’s best for me, Jaime Lannister.  You obviously never knew me at all, so don’t start pretending now.”

“I’m not pretending.  I know that I hurt you.  I wanted to hurt you.”

Brienne laughed, the sound painfully bitter.  “Oh, is that supposed to make it all right then?  Just because you can admit that you set out to hurt me, doesn’t mean that I have to forgive you.”

“I had to hurt you,” he said, ignoring her words.  “It was the only way to make you stay away, to keep you from following me to King’s Landing, to keep you out of danger.”

Brienne’s eyes bored into him, and Jaime could see that his words hadn’t had the effect he’d intended.  Brienne was furious, and she was doing her utmost to rein in her temper. 

“You . . . _you_ wanted to keep _me_ out of danger?  Me?  Ser Brienne of Tarth?  Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?  You thought you were protecting me?”

“Yes.  Yes, I did.”  Jaime swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly feeling very much like a fool.  Brienne made all his good intentions just sound absurd.

“And what, pray tell, were you protecting me from?  Your sister’s army, or watching you fall into your sister’s arms?”

Brienne’s voice broke on the last word, and Jaime could see how much she was struggling with her emotions.  It was obvious that she wasn’t over his betrayal, obvious that she still had strong feelings for him, whatever they were.  He wanted to help her, not hurt her, but he was doing a terrible job of it.

Jaime slowly leaned forward in his chair, doing his best not to spook her.  They were finally talking, finally getting things out in the open, and he didn’t want to give Brienne any excuse to retreat.  He wanted to explain, as best he could, before she suffered a single moment longer.

“I was protecting you from Cersei, from her wrath, from her jealousy.”

Brienne’s eyes clouded with confusion, and she searched his face, clearly trying to make sense of his words.  “What are you talking about?”

“Cersei.  Had you followed me, had we gone to King’s Landing together, she would have seen, in an instant, how I felt about you, and she would have turned her vengeance on you.  She was not a kind woman, nor a generous one.  She was selfish, territorial, cruel.  I didn’t want you to be her next target.  I didn’t want her to end your life as payment for my betrayal.”

“Your betrayal?”  Brienne laughed again.  “You may have turned your back on Cersei when you left King’s Landing, but you went back to her in the end, and that’s all that matters.”

“No, that isn’t all that matters.”

“Of course, it is, and if you expect me to believe differently, then you must think I’m a fool.  And I can assure you, Jaime Lannister, that I am no fool.  Not for you.  Not for anyone.”

Brienne pushed her chair away from the table and abruptly stood. 

Jaime quickly scrambled to his feet.  Miserable wretch that he was, he was still a gentleman, and he could not stay seated in the presence of a lady.

Brienne shook her head.  “You need not stand on my account.  I know what you think of me.  There’s no reason to pretend otherwise.”

Jaime pulled back his shoulders and lifted his head, staring Brienne straight in the eye.  “I think you are the bravest, kindest, most capable person I have ever known.  And I’m sorry that you refused to accept me into the Kingsguard because it would have been an honor to serve under you.  But since you didn’t, then I am grateful that Tyrion appointed me to the small council because it means I get to serve beside you, and that is more than I deserve.”

“You’re right.  It is more than you deserve.”  Brienne turned abruptly and headed toward the door.  Before she reached the hallway, she stopped and looked at Jaime over her shoulder.  “I’ve told you all I can about our military affairs.  If you need anything further, you can speak directly to Lord Tyrion.  And please, tell him, if he ever tries anything like this again, he can go fuck himself.”

Brienne turned without another word and disappeared into the hallway, leaving the door open behind her, an obvious sign that she wanted Jaime to leave.

The instant she was gone, Jaime exhaled a defeated sigh and sank back down into his chair.  He stared out into the room without seeing anything around him.  He had tried so hard to explain himself, and he had failed miserably.  He knew he could have done a much better job of it – spoken more bluntly, explained things differently, forced her to listen – but he had thought that a gentle approach would be best under the circumstances, though he’d obviously been wrong.  Jaime didn’t know if and when Brienne would give him a chance to speak to her so frankly again, but he promised himself, if she did, the next time, he wouldn’t waste it.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long delay between chapters. Real life has been difficult lately, and it has interfered with my ability to post. I still have every intention of finishing this fic, it’s just going to take longer than I expected.

#### Chapter Nine

Brienne stormed down the corridor, wanting to put as much distance between herself and Jaime as possible.  She had half a mind to hunt Tyrion down and tell him that she resigned her post.  Jaime Lannister had only been back in her life for one day, and already, she found herself barely able to function.  Brienne didn’t like losing her temper, she didn’t like losing control, but whenever Jaime was around, she simply couldn’t help herself.  Her anger was still too raw.  She hadn’t had enough time to come to terms with Jaime’s reappearance, and her emotions were getting the better of her.

What did Jaime mean, he had hurt her to protect her?  That was the most ludicrous thing Brienne had ever heard.  She didn’t need protecting.  Not from Jaime, not from Cersei, not from anyone.  Jaime could claim all he wanted that he had kept her from going to King’s Landing to protect her from Cersei, but the more likely truth was that he had kept her from going to King’s Landing to protect Cersei from her. 

Of course, Brienne doubted she would ever have been able to kill Cersei Lannister herself, even if she’d been given the chance.  It wasn’t because she felt any fondness for the Lannister queen.  It was because, deep down inside, she knew what Cersei meant to Jaime – what Cersei had always meant to Jaime – and she didn’t think she had it in her to wound him so deeply.  There were very few people Brienne had ever truly loved – her father, Renly, Catelyn Stark and her children, and Jaime Lannister.  That was it.  And even after Jaime’s betrayal, she still wasn’t capable of hurting him.  She knew it was a failing on her part, her greatest weakness, but at least she was brave enough to admit it.

Brienne was halfway to the Tower of the Hand before she realized where she was going.  She stopped dead in her tracks and took a moment to take stock of herself.  Her breath was coming in rapid bursts, her heart beating an uneven rhythm, and her cheeks burned with agitation.  If anyone had chanced upon her just then, they would have found her all out of sorts, and she wouldn’t have been able to live down the embarrassment.  She was Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.  She needed to appear in control at all times.  To be any other way would be a disgrace to her station.

Brienne inhaled a long, slow breath, willing her body to relax.  When she finally exhaled, her shoulders slumped and her heartbeat slowed, and she knew she was finally in control.  She turned around and began walking slowly back toward the White Sword Tower, determined to go about her daily business just as she always did.  There were letters to answer and guard assignments to schedule.  She still had much to occupy her time with, even if Jaime would be taking over some of her regular duties now that he was Master of War.

It wasn’t long before Brienne found herself alone in her chamber, sitting at her desk, enjoying the quiet solitude.  There was a letter waiting from Winterfell, a scroll that had arrived just that morning.  Brienne and Sansa often wrote to each other.  Although their letters were mostly of an official nature, there was an easiness between them, a friendliness, that Brienne valued greatly.  Despite the fact that she was queen, or perhaps because of it, Sansa was terribly lonely, just as lonely as Brienne, and the friendship between them had only deepened as they’d shared their profound sense of loneliness through their letters.

Of course, Brienne and Sansa had always been close in an odd sort of way.  Brienne had been Sansa’s sworn sword, had stood by her in the worst of times, had been all too willing to give her life for the Lady of Winterfell.  But it was more than that.  Sansa was alone now.  Bran was King of Westeros, Jon was at the Wall – or north of the Wall, if reports were correct – and Arya was on her way to the other side of the world.  Sansa had once told Brienne that her father had been fond of saying, _When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives_.  But now, with winter over, the pack had scattered, and the lone wolf left at Winterfell was floundering.  Oh, Sansa had not faltered in her duties as Queen in the North, but she was struggling to keep her spirits up, to keep her loneliness from eating away at her day after day.  Brienne knew that Tyrion wrote to Sansa every other morning – everyone knew – but even that wasn’t enough, which was why Brienne wrote to her whenever she could.

Brienne picked up the letter and broke the seal.  Leaning back in her chair, she unfurled the parchment and began to read:

 

_Dear Brienne,_

_Although I have scarcely been queen for six months, the northern lords have already decided that I should take a husband to ensure the future of northern independence.  They fear, should anything happen to me before I am able to take a husband and produce an heir, that King Bran will send an army northward to reclaim our kingdom._

_As you know, I have no desire to marry again, but I have no choice but to at least consider their request.  The northern lords have compiled a list of prospective suitors for my consideration.  I fear I am not keen on any of my choices, but that may have more to do with my reluctance to wed than with any failing in the gentlemen themselves.  I have included the list in hopes of asking you for a favor.  There is no one in all of Westeros who is more knowledgeable on such matters than Lord Tyrion.  I would like his opinion on each of my potential suitors, but since he was once my husband himself and the situation is a delicate one, I cannot bring myself to ask him outright.  Could you, dearest Brienne, find a way to ascertain Lord Tyrion’s opinion on the matter without letting him know that I requested it?  I am sure you understand why I am reluctant to inquire with him directly, and I hope that you can do me this kindness as I struggle to decide the course of my future._

_Sincerely,_

_Sansa Stark, Queen in the North_

Brienne stared at the letter, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.  Yes, she understood very well why Sansa was reluctant to ask Tyrion for help.  Sansa was just as smitten with Tyrion as Tyrion was with Sansa, but neither one of them was willing to admit it.  Tyrion refused to admit it because he felt himself unworthy of the Queen in the North, and Sansa was unwilling to admit it because she feared the northern lords would not approve of her choice.  Even if Tyrion and Sansa did confess their feelings for one another, remarrying would be no easy task.  Bran had given Tyrion a life sentence by making him Hand, and Sansa would face a great deal of opposition from her people if she tried to make Tyrion Lannister her husband again.  And yet, that didn’t stop the two of them from writing to each other every other day and secretly pining in silence.

Although Brienne knew it wasn’t her place, she secretly hoped that things would work out between Sansa and Tyrion.  She wanted to see Sansa happy, and she knew that Tyrion was the only man in all of Westeros who Sansa truly trusted.  Sansa Stark deserved a marriage based on trust and mutual admiration, not a marriage based on duty and obligation.  She had married for duty twice before.  She deserved something different this time.  She deserved to finally make her own choice.

Brienne moved Sansa’s letter aside, finding a second piece of parchment beneath it containing the list of suitors.  There were half a dozen names written in elegant letters, among them Robin Arryn and Gendry Baratheon.  Brienne shook her head, already having made up her mind on both candidates.  Robin Arryn was far too weak-willed to ever be Sansa Stark’s consort, and Gendry Baratheon was still desperately in love with Lady Arya, though he had not once spoken her name on his frequent visits to King’s Landing.  Sansa deserved better than a boy who couldn’t speak his own mind and a man who had already shared her sister’s bed.  She deserved a man of her own.  She deserved an equal.

Brienne leaned forward in her chair and put down the list.  Then, she opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out her own sheet of parchment.  She picked up her quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and began to write.

 

_Your Grace,_

_Although I am a subject of the Six Kingdoms, I am ever loyal to all those who bear the Stark name, and I will be more than happy to grant the favor you requested.  It may take some time for me to make the necessary inquiries on your behalf, but as soon as I have an answer, I will send a raven straight away._

Brienne’s hand stilled on the page, her letter incomplete.  She wondered if she should tell Sansa about Jaime or leave it to Tyrion.  There was a very good chance that Tyrion had already broken the news to Sansa in his latest letter, but Brienne knew Sansa would find it odd if she herself stayed silent on the subject.  Sansa knew what had happened between Brienne and Jaime before he’d left for King’s Landing, and it would likely seem strange to her if Brienne didn’t at least acknowledge his reappearance.

Brienne thought for a moment before she refilled her pen and brought it down against the parchment again.  She continued:

 

_On another matter, I am not sure if Lord Tyrion has already imparted the news, but a very peculiar thing has happened here at the Red Keep.  Two nights ago, Jaime Lannister suddenly appeared in the capital looking like death itself.  Though we all thought him dead, apparently, he was able to escape King’s Landing after the Red Keep collapsed and has been living in a small village just beyond Storm’s End.  Now that he has returned, Lord Tyrion has appointed him to the small council, naming him Master of War.  I don’t quite know what to make of it all, but I have no choice but to trust that King Bran and his Lord Hand know what they are doing.  I would not forgive Ser Jaime so easily myself, but then, the decision is not mine to make.  I pray to the gods that he is the man they think he is and that he will be an asset to the Six Kingdoms._

_With warmest regards,_

_Brienne of Tarth, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard_

Brienne reread the last paragraph of her letter, making sure that it was exactly what she wanted to say.  Even though she could not express her emotions freely on parchment, she wanted to make certain that Sansa understood where she stood on the subject of Jaime’s return.  She was wary of him, and she could not bring herself to forgive him.

Determined not to overthink the matter, Brienne rolled up the scroll and quickly sealed it.  Then, she committed the list of potential suitors to memory and locked it in the desk drawer, along with Sansa’s letter.  She didn’t want anyone to know about the favor the queen had asked of her.  It was a private matter, and she intended to keep it that way.

Just as Brienne was pocketing the key to the desk, there was a knock at the door.  She straightened in her seat and turned her attention toward the sound.  “Come in,” she said in a calm, clear voice, knowing instinctually that it wasn’t Jaime on the other side.

The door opened, and Podrick stepped into the room.  “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything.”

“You’re not,” Brienne replied.  “I was just finishing up a letter to Queen Sansa.”  Brienne picked up the sealed scroll and held it out toward Podrick.  “Will you take this to the rookery as soon as you leave here?  I would like it sent immediately.”

“Yes, of course,” Podrick said as he closed the door behind him and crossed the room.  He stopped on the opposite side of the desk and took the scroll from Brienne.

“Now,” she said, inching her chin just a little higher, “what is it that you’ve come about?”

“King Bran has requested your presence in his chambers.  He said he wanted to have a private word with you.”

Every muscle in Brienne’s body tensed.  Although there was nothing unusual about Bran requesting her presence for a private audience, she knew that, this time at least, the conversation wasn’t going to be about security measures or military plans, it was going to be about Jaime Lannister.  She was certain of it.

Brienne inhaled a steadying breath before pushing her chair away from the desk and rising.  “I shall head to his chamber anon.”

“Very good, my lady.”

Brienne walked around the desk, expecting Podrick to follow her to the door, but he didn’t move. 

Brienne suddenly stopped.  “Is something wrong, Pod?”

“No, my lady.  Yes, my lady.  I mean, nothing’s wrong, I just—”

“What is it?”

“I heard what Lord Tyrion did this morning, forcing you to work with Ser Jaime.  I can’t imagine that was easy for you.  And now, King Bran has called you to his chamber, and I’m certain he wants to talk about the new Master of War.  It’s just, I know where my loyalties lie, that’s all, and I wanted you to know that.”

Brienne’s gaze softened, and she fought back the hint of a smile.  If she’d ever had a little brother, she would have wanted him to be just like Podrick Payne.  “I know where your loyalties lie, Podrick, and I thank you for that.  Although I am none too pleased to be spending time with Jaime Lannister, it is my duty to do so, and I will suffer it as I must.  I know you are concerned for me, but you needn’t be.  I am fine, and more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“Oh, yes, I know.  I hadn’t meant to imply that you couldn’t.  I just wanted you to know that I understand, that’s all.”

Despite her determination to project an air of detachment, Brienne offered Podrick a reassuring smile.  “I know that, Pod.  Thank you.  Now,” she said, nodding toward the scroll in his hand, “take that to the rookery and return to your duties, and I will report to the king.”

“Yes, my lady.”  Podrick bowed his head and slipped from the room. 

Brienne followed after him, on her way to face King Bran the Broken.


End file.
